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MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE RIGHT 
HONORABLE RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERI- 
DAN. By Thomas Moore. Two volumes in 
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MEMOIRS 



OF THE 



LIFE OF THE RMT HONORABLE 



RICHARD BRIMEY SHERIMI 



— BY— 

THOMAS MOORE. 



T"WO "VOLTJlNvdlES IlSr 03^E!. 



CHICAGO: 
Belford, Clarke & Co. 

ST. LOUIS: 

Belford & Clarke Publishing Co. 
mdccclxxxii. 






COPYRIGHTED. 

BELFORD, CLARKE & CO., 

1880. 



48 65 5 5 
AUG 2 8 1942 



ri;INT2D AND liOUND 

jONOHUE & H[!:NNEr>ERKY, 



CHICAGO. ^ 



f 



\S 






TO 

GEORGE B II YA N, Esq., 

THIS WORK IS INSCRIBKi). 
Br 

HLS SLVCERE ASD AFFECTIOXATE FRIEXD. 

THOMAS MOORii. 



PEEFACE. 



The first four Chapters of this work were written near- 
ly seven years ago. My task was then suspended during 
a long absence from England ; and it was only in the 
course of the last year that I applied myself seriously to 
the completion of it. 

To my friend, Mr. Charles Sheridan, whose talents and 
character reflect honor upon a name, already so distin- 
guished, I am indebted for the chief part of the materials 
upon which the following Memoirs of his father are 
founded. I have to thank him, not only for this mark of 
confidence, but for the delicacy with which, though so 
deeply interested in the subject of my task, he has re- 
frained from all interference with the execution of it; — 
neither he, nor any other person, beyond the Printing- 
office, having ever read a single sentence of the work. 

I mention this, in order that the responsibility of any 
erroneous views or indiscreet disclosures, with Avhich I 
shall be thought chargeable in the course of these pages, 
may not be extended to others, but rest solely with my- 
self. 

(5) 



VI PREFACE. 

The details of Mr. Sheridan's early life were obliging- 
ly communicated to me by his younger sister, Mrs. Le- 
fanu, to whom, and to her highly gifted daughter, I offer 
my best thanks for the assistance which they have afford- 
ed me. 

The obligations, of a similar nature, which I owe to 
the kindness of Mr "William Linley, Doctor Bain, S[r 
Burgess, and others, are acknowledged, with due grati- 
tude, in my remarks on their. respective communications 



CONTENTS TO VOL. I. 



CHAPTER I. 

Birth and Education of Mr. Sheridan. — His First Attempts in Litera- 
ture 9 

CHAPTER II. 
Duels with Mr. Mathews. — Marriage with Miss Linley. . • . 45 

CHAPTER III. 

Domestic Circumstances. — Fragments of Essays found among his Papers. — 
Comedy of '•' The Rivals.'' — Answer to '' Taxation no Tyranny." — Farce 
of '' St. Patrick's Day." 79 

CHAPTER IV. 

The Duenna. — Purchase of Drury-Lane Theatre. — The Trip to Scarbo- 
rough. — Poetical Correspondence with Mrs. Sheridan. . . . 105 

CHAPTER V. 
The School for Scandal ., . 139 

CHxiPTER YI. 

Further Pui-chase of Theatrical Property. — Monody to the Memory of Gar- 
rick. — Essay on Metre. — The Critic. — Essay on Absentees. — Political 
Connections. — '• The Englishman." — Elected for Stafford. . . 173 

CHAPTER VII. 
Unfinished Plays and Poems 199 

CHAPTER VIII. 

His First Speeches in Parliament. — Rockingham Administration. — Coali- 
tion. — India Bill.— -Re-election for Stafford 225 

(7) 



nil CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER IX. 



The Prince of Wales. — Financial Measures. — Mr. Pitt's East India Bill. — 
Irish Commercial Propositions. — Plan of the Duke of Richmond. — 
Sinking Fund .260 

CHAPTER X. 

Charges against Mr. Hastings. — Commercial Treaty with France. — Debts of 
The Prince of Wales .283 



MEMOIES 

OF THE 

LIFE OF THE RT. HON. 

RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 



CHAPTER I, 



BIRTH AXD EDUCATION OF MR. SHERIDAN. — HIS FIRST 
ATTEMPTS IN LITERATURE. 

Richard Brinsley"^ Sheridan was born in the month of Sep 
tember, 1751, at No. 12, Dorset Street, Dublin, and baptized in 
St. Mary's Church, as appears by the register of the parish, on 
the fourth of the following month. His grandfather, Dr. Sheri- 
dan, and his father, Mr. Thomas Sheridan, have attained a cele- 
brity, independent of that which he has conferred on them, by 
the friendship and correspondence with which the former was 
honored by Swift, and the competition and even rivalry which 
the latter so long maintained with Garrick. His mother, too, 
was a woman of considerable talents, and aftbrds one of the few 
instances that have occurred, of a female mdebted for a husband 
to her literature ; as it was a pamphlet she wrote concerning the 
Dublin theatre that first attracted to her the notice of Mr. 
Thomas Sheridan. Her affecting novel, Sidney Biddulph, could 
boast among its warm panegyrists Mr. Fox and Lord North ; 
and in the Tale of Nourjahad she has employed the graces of 
Eastern fiction to inculcate a grave and important moral, — put- 
ting on a fairy disguise, like her own Mandane, to deceive her 

* He was c'l\ islened also by the name of Bailer, after the Earl of Lanesborough. 

1* C9> 



10 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

readers into a taste for happiness and virtue. Besides her two 
pLays, The Discovery and Tiie Dupe, — the former of which Gar- 
rick pronounced to be " one of the best comeclies he ever read," 
— she wrote a' comedy also, called The Trip to Bath, which was 
never either acted or published, but which has been supposed by 
Bome of those sagacious persons, who love to look for flaws in 
the titles of fame, to have passed, with her other papers, into the 
possession of her son, and, after a transforming sleep, like that 
of the chrysalis, in his hands, to have taken wing at length in the 
brilliant form of The Rivals. The literary labors of her husband 
were less fanciful, but not, perhaps, less useful, and are chiefly 
upon subjects connected with education, to the study and profes- 
sion of which he devoted the latter part of his life. Such dignity, 
Indeed, did his favorite pursuit assume in his own eyes, that he is 
represented (on the authority, however, of one who was himself 
a schoolmaster) to have declared, that " he would rather see his 
two sons at the head of respectable academies, than one of them 
prime mmister of England, and the other at the head of affairs 
in Ireland." 

At the age of seven years, Richard Brinsley Sheridan was, 
with his elder brother, Charles Francis, placed under the tuition 
of Mr. Samuel Whyte, of Grafton Street, Dublin, — an amiable 
and respectable man, who, for near fifty years after, continued at 
the head of his profession in that metropolis. To remember our 
school-days with gratitude and pleasure, is a tribute at once to 
the zeal and gentleness of our master, which none ever deserved 
more truly from his pupils than Mr. Whyte, and which the \^Ti- 
ter of these pages, who owes to that excellent person all the in- 
structions in English literature he has ever received, is happy to 
take this opportunity of paying. The young Sheridans, however, 
were little more than a year under his care — and it may be con- 
soling to parents who are in the first crisis of impatience, at the 
sort of hopeless stupidity which some children exhibit, to know, 
that the dawn of Sheridan's intellect w^as as dull and unpromis- 
mg as its meridian day was bright ; and that in the year 1759, 
he whc, in less than thirty years afterwards, held senates enchain- 



RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRIXSLEY SHERIDAN. 11 

ed by his eloquence and audiences fascinated by his wit, was, by 
common consent both of parent and preceptor, pronounced to hf^ 
" a most impenetrable dunce." 

From Mr. Whyte's school the boys were removed to England, 
where Mr. and Mrs. Sheridan had lately g"one to reside, and in 
the year 1762 Richard was sent to Harrow — Charles being kept 
at home as a fitter subject for the instructions of his fjither, who, 
by another of those calculations of poor human foresight, which 
the deity, called Eventus by the Romans, takes such wanton plea- 
sure in falsifying, considered his elder son as destined to be the 
brighter of the two brother stars. At Harrow, Richard was re- 
markable only as a very idle, careless, but, at the same time, en- 
gaging boy, who contrived to win the affection, and even admira- 
tion of the whole school, both masters and pupils, by the mere 
charm of his frank and genial manners, and by the occasional 
gleams of superior intellect, which broke through all the indolence 
and indifierence of his character. 

Harrow, at this time, possessed some peculiar advantages, of 
which a youth like Sheridan might have powerfully availed him- 
self. At the head of the school was Doctor Rol^ert Sumner, a 
man of fine talents, but, unfortunately, one of those wdio have 
passed away without leaving any trace behind, except in the ad- 
miring recollection of their cotemporaries. His taste is said to 
have been of a purity almost perfect, combining what are seldom 
seen together, that critical judgment which is alive to the errors 
of genius, with the warm sensibility that deeply feels its beau- 
ties. At the same period, the distinguished scholar. Dr. Parr, 
who, to the mas^y erudition of a former age, joined all the free 
and enlightened intelligence of the present, was one of the under 
masters of the school ; and both he and Dr. Sumner endeavored, 
by every method they could devise, to awaken in Sheridan a con- 
sciousness of those powders which, under all the disadvantages of 
indolence and carelessness, it was manifest to them that he pos- 
sessed. But remonstrance and encouragement were equally 
thrown away upon the good-humored but immovable indiffer 
ence of their pupil ; and though there exist among Mr. Sheridan's 



12 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

papers some curious proofs of an industry in stud}^ for v»liich few 
have ever given him credit, they are probably but the desultory 
efforts of a later period of his life, to recover the loss of that 
first precious time, whose susceptibility of instruction, as well as 
of pleasure, never comes again. 

One of the most valuable acquisitions he derived from Harrow 
was that friendship, which lasted throughout his life, with Dr. 
Parr, — which mutual admiration very early began, and the 
" idem scntire de re puhlica' of course not a little strengthened. 

As this learned and estimable man has, within the last few 
weeks, left a void in the world which will not be easily filled up, 
I feel that it would be unjust to my readers not to give, in his 
own words, the particulars of Sheridan's school-days, with which 
he had the kindness to favor me, and to which his name gives an 
authenticity and interest too valuable on such a subject to be with- 
held : 

"Dear Sir, '' Hatton, August 3, 1818. 

" With the aid of h scribe I sit dowm to fulfil my promise 
about Mr. Sheridan. There vras little in his boyhood worth com- 
munication. He was inferior to many of his school-fellow^s in 
the ordinary business of a school, and I do not remember any 
one instance in which he distinguished himself by Latin or Eng- 
lish composition, in prose or verse.*^ Nathaniel Halhed, one of 
his school-fellows, wrote well in Latin and Greek. Richard 
Archdal], another school-fellow, excelled in English verse. Rich- 
ard Sheridan aspired to no rivalry with either of them. He was 
at the uppermost part of the fifth form, but he never reached the 
sixth, and, if I mistake not, he had no opportunity of attending 
the most difficult and the most honorable of school business, when 
the Greek plays were taught — and it was the custom at Harrow 
to teach these at least every year. He went through his lessons 
in Horace, and Virgil, and Homer well enough for a time. But, 
in the absence of the upper master, Doctor Sumner, it once fell 
in my way to instruct the two upper forms, and upon calling up 

* II will be seen, however, lliough Dr. Parr was not awrire of llie circumstance, that 
Shcriiian did 'ry his talent at English verse before he left Harrow. 



tllGHT HON. RICHAED BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 13 

Dick Sh(:ridan, I found him not only slovenly in construing, but 
unusually defective in his Greek grammar. Knowing him to be 
a clever fellow, I did not fail to probe and to tease him. I stated 
his case with great good-humor to the upper master, who was one 
of the best tempered men in the world ; and it was agreed be- 
tween us, that Richard should be called oftener and worked more 
severely. The varlet was not suffered to stand up m his place ; 
but was summoned to take his station near the master's table, 
where the voice of no prompter could reach him ; and, in this de- 
fenceless condition, he was so harassed, that he at last gathered 
up some grammatical rules, and prepared himself for his lessons. 
While this tormenting process was inflicted upon him, I now and 
then upbraided him. But you will take notice that he did not in- 
cur any corporal punishment for his idleness : his industry was 
just sufficient to protect him from disgrace. All the while Sum- 
ner and I saw in him vestiges of a superior intellect. His eye, 
his countenance, his general manner, were striking. His answers 
to any common question were prompt and acute. We knew the 
esteem, and even admiration, which, somehow or other, all his 
school-fellows felt for him. He was mischievous enough, but his 
pranks were accompanied by a sort of vivacity and cheerfulness, 
which delighted Sumner and myself. I had much talk with him 
about his apple-loft, for the supply of which all the gardens in 
the neighborhood were taxed, and some of the lower boys were 
employed to furnish it. I threatened, but without asperity, to 
trace the depredators, through his associates, up to their leader. 
He with perfect good-humor set me at defiance, and I never could 
bring the charge home to him. All boys and all masters were 
pleased with him. I oflen praised him as a lad of great talents, 
— often exhorted him to use them well ; but my exhortations 
were fruitless. I take for granted that his taste was silently im- 
proved, and that he knew well the little which he did know. H^ 
was removed from school too soon by his father, who was the 
intimate friend of Sumner, and whom I often met at his house. 
Sumner had a fine voice, fine ear, fuie taste, and, therefore, pro- 
nunciation was frequently the favorite subject between him and 



14 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

Tom Sheridan. I was present at many of their discussions ai :* 
disputes, and sometimes took a very active part in them, — ba^: 
Richard was not present. The father, you know, was a wrong- 
headed, whimsical man, and, perhaps, his scanty circumstances 
were one of the reasons which prevented him from sending Rich- 
ard to the University. He must have been aware, as Sumner and 
I were, that Richard's mind was not cast in any ordinary mould. 
I ought to have told you that Richard, when a boy, was a great 
reader of English poetry ; but his exercises afforded no proof 
of his proficiency. In truth, he, as a boy, was quite careless 
about literary fame. I should suppose that his father, without 
any regular system, polished his taste, and supplied his memory 
vrith anecdotes about our best writers in our Auorustan a2:e. The 
grandfather, you know, lived familiarly with Swift. I have heard 
of him, as an excellent scholar. His boys in Ireland once per- 
formed a Greek play, and when Sir AVilllam Jones and I were 
talking over this event, I determined to make the experiment in 
England. I selected some of my best boys, and they performed 
the CEdipus Tyrannus, and the Trachinians of Sophocles. I wrote 
some Greek Iambics to vindicate myself from the imputation of 
singularity, and grieved I am that I did not keep a copy of them. 
Milton, you may remember, recommends what I attempted. 

" I saw much of Sheridan's father after the death of Sumner, 
and after my own removal from Harrow to Stanmer. I 
respected him, — he really liked me, and did me some important 
services, — but I never met him and Richard together. I often 
inquired about Richard, and, from the father's answers, found 
they were not upon good terms, — but neither he nor I ever 
spoke of his son's talents but in terms of the highest praise." 

In a subsequent letter Dr. Parr says : " I referred you to a 
passage in the Gentleman's Magazine, where I am represented 
a-s discovering and encouraging in Richard Sheridan those intel- 
lectual powers which had not been discovered and encouraged 
by Sumner. But the statement is incorrect. We both of us 
discovered talents, which neither of us could bring into action 
while Sheridan was a school-boy. He gave us few opportuni- 



RIGHT HON. KIGHARD BHIXSLEY SHERIDAX. 16 

tien of praise in the course of his school business, and yet he was 
well aware that we thought highly of him, and anxiously wished 
more to be done by him than he was disposed to do. * 

" I once or twice met his mother, — she was quite celestial. 
Both her virtues and her genius were highly esteemed by Robert 
Sumner. I know not whether Tom Sheridan found Richai'd 
tractable in the art of speaking, — and, upon such a subject, indo- 
lence or indifference would have been resented by the father as 
crimes quite inexpiable. One of Richard's sisters now and then 
visited Harrow, and w^ell do I remember that, in the house 
where I lodged, sne triumphantly repeated Dryden's Ode upon 
St. Cecilia's Day, according to the instruction given to her by 
her father. Take a sample : 

' None but the brave, 
None but the brave, 
None hut the brave deserve the fair.' 

Whatever may have been the zeal or the proficiency of the sister, 
naughty Richard, like Gallio, seemed to care naught for these 
things. 

" In the later periods of his life Richard did not cast behind 
him classical reading. He spoke copiously and powerfully about 
Cicero. He had read, and he had understood, the four orations 
of Demosthenes, read and taught in our public schools. He was 
at home in Virgil and in Horace. I cannot speak positively 
about Homer, — but I am very sure that he read the Iliad now 
and then ; not as a professed scholar w^ould do, critically, but 
with all the strong sympathies of a poet reading a poet.* 
Richard did not, and could not forget what he once knew, but 
his path to knowledge was his own, — his steps were noiseless, — his 
progress was scarcely felt by himself, — his movements were 
rapid but irregular. 

" Let me assure you that Richard, when a boy, was by no 

* It was not one of the least of the triumphs of Sheridan's talent to have been able to 
persuade so acute a scholar as Dr. Parr, that the extent of hib classical acquirements 
was so great as is here represented, and to have thus impressed with the idea of his 
7»^inenibering- so much, the person who best l:ncw how little he had learned. 



16 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

means vicious. The sources of his infirmities were a scanty 
and precarious allowance from the father, the want of a regular 
plan for some profession, and, above all, the act of throwing 
him upon the town, when he ought to have been pursuing his 
studies at the University. He would have done little among 
mathematicians at Cambridge ; — he would have been a rake, or 
an idler, or a trifler, at Dublin ; — but I am inclined to think that 
at Oxford he would have become an excellent scholar. 

" I have now told you all that i know, and it amounts to very 
little. I am very solicitous "or justice to be done to Robert 
Sumner. He is one of the six or seven persons among my own 
acquaintance whose taste I am accustomed to consider perfect, 
and, were he living, his admiration * * * '^ 

During the greater part of Richard's stay at Harrow his 
father had been compelled, by the embarrassment of his affairs, 
to reside with the remainder of the family in France, and it was 
at Blois, in the September of 1766, that Mrs. Sheridan died — 
leaving behind her that best kind of tame, which results from a 
life of usefulness and purity, and which it requires not the aid 
of art or eloquence to blazon. She appears to have been one 
of those rare women, who, united to men of more pretensions, 
but less real intellect than themselves, meekly conceal this 
superiority even from their own hearts, and pass their lives 
without remonstrance or murmur, in gently endeavoring to 
repair those evils which the indiscretion or vanity of their 
partners has brought upon them. 

As a supplement to the interesting com muni cation of Dr. 
Parr, I shall here subjoin an extract from a letter which the eldest 
sister of Sheridan, Mrs. E. Lefanu, wrote a few months after 
his death to Mrs. Sheridan, in consequence of a wish expressed 
by the latter that Mrs. Lefanu would communicate such particu- 
lars as she remembered of his early days. It will show, too, 
the feeling which his natural good qualities, in spite of the errors 
by which they were obscured and weakened, kept alive to the 
last, in the hearts of those connected with him, that sort of 

* The remainder of the letter relates to other subjects. 



JlIGHT HON. KICFAilD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 17 

retrospective afFection, which, when those whom we have loved 
become altered, whether in mind or person, brings the recollec- 
tion of what they once were, to mingle with and soften our im- 
pression of what they are. 

After giving an account of the residence of the family in 
France, she continues : " We returned to England, when I may 
say I first became acquainted with my brother — for faint and 
imperfect were my recollections of liiin, as might be expected 
from my age. I saw him ; and my childish attachment revived 
with double force. He was handsome, not merely in the eyes 
of a partial sister, but generally allowed to be so. His cheeks 
had the glow of health ; his eyes, — the finest in the world, — the 
brilliancy of genius, and were soft as a tender and affectionate 
heart could render them. The same playful fancy, the same 
sterling and innoxious wit, that was shown afterwards in his 
writings, cheered and delighted the family circle, I admired — I 
almost adored him. I would most willingly have sacrificed my 
life for him, as I, in some measure, proved to him. at Bath, 
where we resided for some time, and where events that you 
must have heard of engaged him in a duel. My father's dis- 
pleasure threatened to involve me in the denunciations against 
him, for committing what he considered as a cyme. Yet I 
risked everything, and in the event was made happy by obtaining 
forgiveness for my brother. * * * * You may perceive, dear 
sister, that very little indeed have I to say on a subject so near 
your heart, and near mine also. That for years I lost sight of a 
brother whom I loved with unabated affection — a love that neither 
absence nor neglect could chill — I always consider as a great 
misfortune." 

On his leaving Harrow, where he continued till near his 
eighteenth year, he was brought home by his father, who, with 
the elder son, Charles, had lately returned from France, and 
taken a house in London. Here the two brothers for some time 
received private tuition from Mr. Lewis Kerr, an Irish gentle 
man, who had formerly practised as a physician, but having, by 
loss of health, been obliged to give up his profession, supported 



18 MEMOIES OF THE LIFE OF THE 

himself by gi^'ing lessons in Latin and Mathematics. They 
attended also the fencing and riding schools of Mr. Angelo, and 
received instructions from their father in English grammar and 
oratory. Of this advantage, however, it is probable, only the 
elder son availed himself, as Richard, who seems to have been 
determined to owe all his excellence to nature alone, was found 
as impracticable a pupil at home as at school. But, however 
inattentive to his "studies he may have been at Harrow, it 
appears, from one of the letters of his school-fellow, Mr. Halhed^ 
that in poetry, which is usually the first exercise in which these 
young athleta3 of intellect try their strength, he had already dis- • 
tinguished himself; and, in conjunction with his friend Halhed, 
had translated the seventh Idyl, and many of the lesser poems 
of Theocritus. This literary partnership was resumed soon after 
their departure from Harrow. In the year 1770, when Halhed 
was at Oxford, and Sheridan residing with his father at Bath, 
they entered into a correspondence, (of which, unluckily, only 
Halhed s share remains,) and, with all the hope and spirit o^ 
young adventurers, began and prosecuted a variety of works 
together, of which none but their translation of Aristsenetus ever 
saw the light. 

There is something m the alliance between these boys pecu- 
liarly interesting. Their united ages, as Halhed boasts in one 
of his letters, did not amount to thirty-eight. They were both 
aboundmg in wit and spirits, and as sanguine as the consciousness 
of talent and youth could make them ; both inspired with a 
taste for pleasure, and thrown, upon their own resources for the 
means of gratifying it; both carelessly embarking, without 
rivalrv or reserve, their venture of fame in the sam.e bottom, 
and both, as Halhed discovered at last, passionately in love 
with the same woman. 

It would have given me great pleasure to have been enabled 
to enliven my pages w^ith even a few extracts from that portion 
of their correspondence, which, as I have just mentioned, has 
fallen into my hands. There is in the letters of Mr. Halhed a 
fiesh youthfulness of style, and an unaifected vivacity of thought, 



PJGIIT HON. EICHAHD BEIXSLEY SHEKIDAN. 19 

which I question whether even his witty correspondent could 
have surpassed. As I do not, however, feel authorized to lay 
these letters before the world, I must only avail myself of the 
aid which their contents supply towards tracing the progress of 
his literary partnership with Sheridan, and throwing light on a 
period so full of interest in the life of the latter. 

Their first joint production was a farce, or rather play, in three 
acts, called " Jupiter," written in imitation of the burletta of 
Midas, whose popularity seems to have tempted into its wake a 
number of these musical parodies upon heathen fable. The 
amour of Jupiter with Major Amphitryon's wife, and Sir Rich- 
ard Ixion's courtship of Juno, who substitutes Miss Peggy Nuhi- 
lis in her place, form the subject of this ludicrous little drama, 
of which Halhed furnished the burlesque scenes, — while the form 
of a rehearsal. Into which the whole is thrown, and which, as an 
anticipation of " The Critic" is highly curious, was suggested and 
managed entirely by Sheridan. The following extracts will give 
some idea of the humor of this trifle ; and in the character of 
Simile the reader will at once discover a sort of dim and 
shadowy pre-existence of Puff: — 

'• Simile. Sir, you are very ignorant on the subject, — it is the method 
most in vogue. 

*^ O^Oul. What! to make the music first, and then make the sense to it 
afterwards ! 

" Bim. Just so. 

'' Monop. What Mr. Simile says is very true, gentlemen ; and there is 
nothing surprising in it. if we consider now the general method of writing 
'plays to scenes. 

" OCul. Writing jt)Za?/s to scenes! — Oh, you are joking. 

'* Monop. Not I, upon my word. Mr. Simile knows that I have frequent- 
ly a complete set of scenes from Italy, and then I have nothing to do but 
to get some ingenious hand to write a play to them. 

*' Sim. I am your witness, Sir. Gentlemen, you perceive you know 
nothing about these matters. 

'^ O'Cul. Why, Mr. Simile, I don't pretend to know much relating to these 
affairs, but what I think is this, that in this method, according to your prin- 
ciples, you must often commit blunders. 

" Sim. Blunders! to be sure I must, but I always could get myself out 



20 MEMOIUS OF THE LIFE OF THK 

of them again. Why, I'll tell you an instance of it. — You must know 1 
was once a journeyman sonnet-writer to Signor Squallini. Now, his method, 
when seized with the furor harmonicus, was constantly to make me sit by 
his side, while he was thrumming on his harpsichord, in order to make ex- 
tempore verses to whatever air he should beat out to his liking. I remem- 
ber, one morning, as he was in this situation, thrum, thrum^ thrum^ {moviny 
his fingers as if beating on the harpsichord.) striking out something pro- 
digiously great, as he thou2;ht, — ' Hah !' said he, — • hah! Mr. Simile, thrum, 
thrum, thrum, by gar here is vary fine, — thrum, thrum, thrum, write me 
some words directly.' — I durst not interrupt him to ask on what subject, so 
instantly began to describe a fine morning. 

" * Calm was the land and calm the seas, 
And calm the heaven's dome serene, 
Hush'd was the gale and hush'd the breeze, 
And not a vapor to be seen.' 

I sang it to his notes, — ' Hah ! upon my vord vary pritt, — thrum, thrum ^ 
thrum, — stay, stay, — thrum, thrum, — Hoa? upon my vord, here it must be 
an dAdigio,- -thrum, thrum, — oh! let it be an Ode to Melancholy.^ 

^'Monop. The Devil ! — there you were puzzled sure. 

" Sim. Not in the least. — I brought in a cloud in the next stanza, and 
matters, you see, came about at once. 

" Monop. An excellent transition. 

" O^Gul. Vastly ingenious indeed. 

'^ Sim. Was it not? hey! it required a little command, — a little presence 
of mind, — but I believe we had better proceed. 

" Monop. The sooner the better, — come, gentlemen, resume your seats. 

" Sim. Now for it. Draw up the curtain, and {looking at his book) enter 
Sir Richard Ixion, — but stay,— zounds. Sir Richard ought to overhear Ju- 
piter and his wife quarrelling, — but, never mind, — these accidents have 
spoilt the division of my piece. — So enter Sir Richard, and look as cunning 
as if you had overheard them. Now for it, gentlemen, — you can't be toe 
attentive. 

Enter Sir Richabd Ixion completely dressed, with bag. sword, dtc. 

'^ Ix. 'Fore George, at logger-heads, — a lucky minute, 
Ton honor, I may make my market in it. 
Dem it, my air, address, and mien must touch her, 
Now out of sorts with him, — less God than butcher. 
rat the fellow, — where can all his sense lie. 
To gallify the lady so immensely ? 
Ah! le grand bete quHl est ! — how rude the bear is! 
The world to two-pence he was ne'er at Paris* 



EIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 21 

i erdition stap my vitalS; — now or never 

111 niggle snugly into Juno's favor. 

Let's see, — {looking in a glass) my face, — toll loll — 'twill work upon her. 

My person — oh, immense, upon my honor. 

My eyes, — oh fie, — the naughty glass it flatters, — 

Courage, — Ixion flogs the world to tatters. [Exit Ixion. 

" Siyn. There is a fine gentleman for you, — in the very pink of the mode, 
with not a single article about him his own, — his words pilfered from Maga- 
zines, his address from French valets, and his clothes not paid for. 

^^ Macd. But pray, Mr. Simile, how did Ixion get into heaven? 

'- Sim. Why, Sir, what's that to any body ? — perhaps by Salmoneus's 
Brazen Bridge, or the Giaut^s Mountain, or the Tower of Babel, or on 
Theobald's b. ill-dogs, or — who the devil cares how? — he is there, and that's 
enough. '^ 

" Sim. Now for a Phoenix of a song. 

So7ig hy Jupiter. 
" You dogs, I'm Jupiter Imperial, 
King, Emperor, and Pope setherial, 
Master of th' Ordnance of the sky. — 

•' Sim. Z ds, Where's the ordnance ? Have you forgot the pist ;1 ? {to 

tJie Orchestra,) 

'^ Orchestra, {to some one behind the scenes.) Tom, are not you pre- 
pared? 

" Tom. {from behind the scenes.) Yes, Sir, but I flash 'd in the pan a 
little out of time, and had I staid to prime, I should have shot a bar too late. 

'' Sim. Oh then, Jupiter, begin the song again. — We must not lose our 
ordnance. 

" You dogs, I'm Jupiter Imperial, 
King, Emperor, and Pope aetherial, 
Master of th' Ordnance of the sky ; &c. &c. 
[Here a pistol or cracker is fired from behind the scenes. 

*^ Sim. This hint I took from Handel. — Well, how do you think we go on ? 

*^ 0''Cul. With vast spirit, — the plot begins to thicken. 

'' Sim. Thicken ! aye.— 'twill be as thick as the calf of your leg present- 
ly. Well, now for the real, original, patentee Amphitryon. What, ho, Am- 
phitryon ! Amphitryon !— 'tis Simile calls.-— Why, where the devil is he ? 

Enter Servant. 
" Monop. Tom, where is Amphitryon? 
" ^im* founds, he's not arrestee^ too, is he ? 



22 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

*' Serv. No, Sir, but there was but 07ie black eye in the house, and he i& 
waiting to get it from Jupiter. 

" Sim, To get a black eye from Jupiter, — oh, this will never do. Why, 
when they meet, they ought to match like two beef-eaters." 

According to their original plan for the conclusion of this 
flirce, all things were at last to be compromised between Jupiter 
and Juno ; Amphitryon was to be comforted in the birth of so 
mighty a son ; Ixion, for his presumption, instead of being fixed 
to a torturing wheel, was to have been fixed to a vagrant mono- 
troche, as knife-grinder, and a grand chorus of deities (intermixed 
with " knives, scissors, pen-knives to grind," set to music as nearly 
as possible to the natural cry,) would have concluded the whole. 

That habit of dilatoriness, which is too often attendant upon 
genius, and which is for ever making it, like the pistol in the scene 
just cpoted, " shoot a bar too late," was, through life, remarkable 
in the character of Mr. Sheridan, — and we have here an early in- 
stance of its influence over him. Though it was in August, 1770, 
that he received the sketch of this piece from his friend, and 
though they both looked forward most sanguinely to its success, ■ 
as likely to realize many a dream of fame and profit, it was nou 
till the month of May in the subsequent year, as appears by a 
letter from Mr. Ker to Sheridan, that the probability of the ar- 
rival of the manuscript was announced to Mr. Foote. " Ihave 
dispatched a card, as from H. H., at Owen's Coffee-house, to Mr. 
Foote, to inform him that he may expect to see your dramatic 
piece about the 25th instant." 

Their hopes and fears in this theatrical speculation are very 
naturally andlivelily expressed throughout Halher^'s letters, some- 
times with a degree of humorous pathos, which is interesting as 
characteristic of both the WTiters : — " the thoughts," he says, " of 
200/. shared between us are enough to bring the tears into one's 
eyes." Sometimes, he sets more moderate limits to their am- 
bition, and hopes that they will, at least, get the freedom of the 
play-house by it. But at all times he chides, with good-humored 
/mpatience, the tardiness of his fellow-laborer in applying to the 
managers. Fears are expressed that Foote may have made 



BIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 23 

other engagements, — and that a piece, called "Dido," on the 
same mythological plan, which had lately been produced with but 
little success, might prove an obstacle to the reception of theirs. 
At Drury Lane, too, they had little hopes of a favorable hearing, 
as Dibdin was one of the principal butts of their ridicule. 

The summer season, however, was suffered to pass away with- 
out an effort ; and in October, 1771, we find Mr. Halhed flatter- 
ing himself with hopes from a negotiation with Mr. Garrick. It 
does not appear, however, that Sheridan ever actually presented 
this piece to any of the managers ; and indeed it is probable, 
from the following fragment of a scene found among his papers, 
that he soon abandoned the groundwork of Halhed altogether, 
and transferred his plan of a rehearsal to some other subject, 
of his own invention, and, therefore, more worthy of his wit. 
It will be perceived that the puffing author was here intended to 
be a Scotchman. 

*' M. Sir, I have read your comedy, and I think it has infinite merit, but. 
pray, don't you think it rather grave ? 

'' S. Sir, you say true ; it is a grave comedy. I follow the opinion of 
LonglnuS; who says comedy ought always to be sentimental. Sir, I value 
a sentiment of six lines in my piece no more than a nabob does a rupee. I 
hate those dirty, paltry equivocations, which go by the name of puns, and 
pieces of wit. No, Sir, it ever was my opinion that the stage should be a 
place of rational entertainment ; instead of which, I am very sorry to say, 
most people go there for their diversion : accordingly, I have formed my 
comedy so that it is no laughing, giggling piece of work. He must be a 
very light man that shall discompose his muscles from the beginning to the 
end. 

" M. But don't you think it may be too grave ? 

'• S. never fear ; and as for hissing, mon, they might as well Jiiss the 
common prayer-book ; for there is the viciousness of vice and the virtuous- 
ness of virtue in every third line. 

'' M. I confess there is a great deal of moral in it ; but. Sir, I should 
imagine if you tried your hand at tragedy 

'• S. No, mon, there you are out. and I'll relate to you what put me first 
on writing a comedy. You must know I had composed a very fine tragedy 
about the valiant Bruce. I showed it my Laird of Mackintosh, and he was 
a very candid mon, and he said my genius did not lie in tragedy : I took 
the hiiit, and, as soon as I got home, began my comedy." 



24 MEMOIES OF THE LIFE OF THE 

We have here some of the very thoughts and words tliat 
afterwards contributed to the fortune of Puff; and it is amusir.g 
to observe how long this subject was played with by the current 
of Sheridan's fancy, till at last, like " a stone of lustre from the 
brook," it came forth with all that smoothness and polish which 
it wears in his inimitable farce. The Critic. Thus it is, too, and 
but little to the glory of what are called our years of discretion, 
that the life of the man is chiefly employed in giving effect to the 
wishes and plans of the hoy. 

Another of their projects was a Periodical Miscellany, the idea 
of which originated with Sheridan, and whose first embryo 
movements we trace in a letter to him from Mr. Lewis Kerr, 
who undertook, with much good nature, the negotiation of the 
young anther's literary concerns in London. The letter is dated 
30th of October, 1770 : " As to your intended periodical paper, 
if it meets with success, there is no doubt of profit accruing, as 
I have already engaged a publisher, of established reputation, to 
undertake it for the account of the authors. But I am to indem- 
nify him in case it should not sell, and to advance part of the 
first expense, all which I can do without applying to Mr. Ewart." 
— " I would be glad to know what stock of papers you have 
already written, as there ought to be ten or a dozen at least 
finished before you print any, in order to have time to prepare 
the subsequent numbers, and ensure a continuance of the work. 
As to the coffee-houses, you must not depend on their taking it 
in at first, except you go on the plan of the Tatler, and give the 
news of the week. For the first two or three weeks the expense 
of advertising will certainly prevent any profit being made. 
But when that is over, if a thousand are sold weekly, you may 
reckon on receiving £5 clear. One paper a week will do better 
than two. Pray say no more as to our accounts." 

The title intended by Sheridan for this paper was " Hernan's 
Miscellany," to which his friend Halhed objected, and suggested, 
" The Reformer," as a newer and more significant name. But 
though Halhed appears to have sought among his Oxford friends 
for an auxiliary or two in their weekly labors, this meditated 



RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 25 

Miscellany never proceeded beyond the first number, which was 
written by Sheridan, and which I have found among his papers. 
It is too diffuse and pointless to be given entire ; but an extract 
or two from it will not be unwelcome to those who love to trace 
even the first, feeblest beginnings of genius : 

HERNAN'S MISCELLANY. 

No. I. 

^' • I will sit down and write for the good of the people— for (said I to 
myself, pulling off my spectacles, and drinking up the remainder of my 
sixpen 'worth) it cannot be but people must be sick of these same rascally 
politics. All last winter nothing but — God defend me! 'tis tiresome to 
think of it.' I immediately flung the pamphlet down on the table, and 
taking my hat and cane walked out of the coffee-house. 

^' I kept up as smart a pace as I could all the way home, for I felt myself 
full of something, and enjoyed my own thoughts so much, that I was afraid 
of digesting them, lest any should escape me. At last I knocked at my 
own door. — ' So !' said I to the maid who opened it, (for I never would 
keep a man ; not, but what I could afford it— however, the reason is not 
material now,) ' So !' said I with an unusual smile upon my face, and imme- 
diately sent her for a quire of paper and half a hundred of pens — the only 
thing I had absolutely determined on in my way from the coffee-house. I 
had now got seated in my arm chair, — I am an infirm old man, and I live on 
a second floor, — y» hen I began to ruminate on my project. The first thing 
that occurred to me (and certainly a very natural one) was to examine my 
common-place book. So I went to my desk and took out my old faithful 
red-leather companion, who had long discharged the office of treasurer to 
all my best hints and memorandums : but, how w»6 I surprised, when one 
of the first things that struck my eyes was the following memorandum, 
legibly written, and on one of my best sheets of vellum : — ' Mem. — Oct. 20tkj 

1769, left the Grecian after Jiaving read *5 Poems, with a determined 

resolution to write a Periodical Paper, in ordr to reform the vitiated taste 
of the age ; hu^. coming home and finding my fire out, and my maid gone 
abroad, was obliged to defer the execution of my plan to another op- 
portunity.' Now though this event had absolutely slipped my memory, I 
now recollected it perfectly, — ay, so my flre was out indeed, and my maid did 
go abroad sure enough. — ' Good Heavens !' said I, ' how great events depend 
upon little circumstances !' However, I looked upon this as a memento for 
me no longer to trifle away mj time and resolution ; and thus I began to 
reason, — I mean, I ivould have reasoned, had I not been interrupted by 
a noise of some one coming up stairs. By the alternate thump upon 

VOL. I. 2 



26 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

the steps, I soon discovered it must be my old and intimate friend Rud- 
liche. 

******** 

<'But, to return, in walked Rudliche.— ' So, Fred.'— ^ So, Bob.'— 'Were 
you at the Grecian to-day?' — 'I just stepped in.' — -Well, any news?' — 
*No, no, there was no news.' Now, as Bob and I saw one another almost 
every day, we seldom abounded in conversation ; so, having settled one 
material point, he sat in his usual posture, looking at the fire and beating 
the dust out of his wooden leg, when I perceived he vvas going to touch 
upon the other subject ; but, having by chance cast his eye on my face, and 
finding (I suppose) something extraordinary in my countenance, he imme- 
diately dropped all concern for the v/eather, and putting his hand into his 
pocket, (as if he meant to find what he was going to say, under pretence of 
feeling for his tobacco-box,) ' Hernan ! (he began) why, man, you look for 
all the world as if you had been thinking of something.' — * Yes,' replied I, 
smiling, (that is, not actually smiling, but with a conscious something in my 
face,) ' I have, indeed, been thinking a little.' — ' What, is't a secret ?' — ' Oh, 
nothing very material.' Here ensued a pause, which I employed in con- 
sidering whether I should reveal my scheme to Bob ; and Bob in trying to 
disengage his thumb from the string of his cane, as if he were preparing to 
take his leave. This latter action, with the great desire I had of disbur- 
dening myself, made me instantly resolve to lay my whole plan before him. 
* Bob,' said I, (he immediately quitted his thumb,) • you remarked that I 
looked as if I had been thinking of something, — your remark is just, and 
I'll tell you the subject of my thought. You know. Bob, that I always had 
a strong passion for literature :— you have often seen my collection of books, 
not very large indeed, however I believe I have read every volume of it 

twice over, (excepting '5 Divine Legation of Moses, and 's Lives 

of the most notorious Malefactors,) and I am now determined to profit by 
them.' I concluded with a very significant nod ; but, good heavens ! how 
mortified was I to find both my speech and my nod thrown away, when 
Rudliche calmly replied, with the true phlegm of ignorance, ' My dear 
friend, I think your resolution in regard to your books a very prudent one ; 
but I do not perfectly conceive your plan as to the profit; for, though your 
volumes may be very curious, yet you know they are most of them second- 
hand.' — I was so vexed with the fellow's stupidity that I had a great mind 
to punish him by not disclosing a syllable more. However, at last my 
vanity got the better of my resentment, and I explained to him the whole 
matter. 



" In examining the beginning of the Spectators, &c., I find they are all 
written by a society. — Now I profess to write all myself, though I acknowl 



RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 27 

edge that, on account of a weakness in my eyes, I have got some under- 
strappers wlio are to write the poetry, &c In order to find the dif- 
ferent merits of these my subalterns, 1 stipulated with them that they should 
let me feed them as I would. This they consented to do, and it is surpris- 
ing to think what different effects diet has on the wi'iters. The same, who 
after having been fed two days upon artichokes produced as pretty a copy 
of verses as ever I saw, on beef was as dull as ditch-water * * * *''^ 

"It IS a characteristic of fools," says some one, "to be always 
beginning," — and this is not the only point in which folly and 
genius resemble each other. So chillingly indeed do the difficul- 
ties of execution succeed to the first ardor cf conception, that it 
is only wonderful there should exist so many finished monu- 
ments of genius, or that men of fancy should not oftener have 
contented themselves with those first vague sketches, in the 
production of which the chief luxury of intellectual creation lies. 
Among the many literary works shadowed out by Sheridan at 
this time were a Collection of Occasional Poems, and a volume 
of Crazy Tales, to the former of v/hich Halhed suggests that 
" the old things they did at Harrow out of Theocritus " might, 
with a littie pruning, form a useful contribution. The loss of 
the volume of Crazy Tales is little to be regretted, as from its 
title we may conclude it was written in imitation of the clever 
but licentious productions of John Hall Stephenson. If the 
same kind oblivion had closed over the levities of other young 
authors, who, in the season of folly and the passions, have made 
their pages the transcript of their lives, it would have been 
equally fortunate for themselves and the world. 

But whatever may have been the industry of these youthful 
authors, the translation of Aristsenetus, as I have already stated, 
was the only fruit of their literary alliance that ever arrived at 
sufficient maturity for publication. In November, 1770, Halhed 
had completed and forwarded to Bath his share of the work, 
and in the following month we find Sheridan preparing, with the 
assistance of a Greek grammar, to complete the task. " The 
29th ult., (says Mr. Ker, in a letter to him from London, dated 
Dec. 4, 1770,) I was favored with yours, and have since been 
hunting for Aristaenetus, whom I found this day, and therefore 



28 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

send to you, together with a Greek grammar. I might have 
dispatched at the same time some numbers of the Dictionary, 
but not having got the last two numbers, was not willing to 
send any without the whole of what is published, and still less 
willing to delay Aristasnetus's journey by waiting for them." 
The work alluded to here is the Dictionary of Arts and Sciences, 
to which Sheridan had subscribed, with the view, no doubt, of 
informing himself upon subjects of which he was as yet wholly 
ignorant, having left school, like most other young men at his 
age, as little furnished with the knowledge that is wanted in 
the world, as a person would be for the demands of a market, 
who went into it with nothing but a few ancient coins in his 
pocket. 

The passion, however, that now began to take possession of 
his heart was little favorable to his advancement in any serious 
studies, and it may easily be imagined that, in the neighborhood 
of Miss Linley, the Arts and Sciences were suffered to sleep 
quietly on their shelves. Even the translation of Aristsenetus, 
though a task more suited, from its amatory nature, to the ex- 
isting temperature of his heart, was proceeded in but slowly ; 
and it appears from one of Halhed's letters, that this impatient 
ally was already counting upon the spolia oplma of the campaign, 
before Sheridan had fairly brought his Greek grammar into the 
field. The great object of the former was a visit to Bath, and 
he had set his heart still more anxiously upon it, after a second 
meeting with Miss Linley at Oxford. But the profits expected 
from their literary undertakings were the only means to which 
he looked for the realizing of this dream ; and he accordingly 
implores his friend, with tlie most comic piteousness, to drive 
the farce on the stage by main force, and to make Aristsenetus 
sell whether he will or not. In the November of this year we 
find them discussing the propriety of prefixing their names to 
the work — Sheridan evidently not disinclined to venture, but 
Halhed recommending that they should wait to hear how " Sum- 
ner and the wise few of their acquaintance " would talk of the 
book, before they risked anything more tlian their initials, Ip 



HIGHT HON. RICHARD BRlNSLEY SHERIDAN. 29 

answer to Sheridan's inquiries as to the extent of sale they may 
expect in Oxford, he confesses that, after three coffee-houses had 
bought one a-piece, not two more would be sold. 

That poverty is the best nurse of talent has long been a most 
humiliating truism ; and the fountain of the Muses, bursting 
from a barren rock, is but too apt an emblem of the hard source 
from which much of the genius of this world has issued. How 
strongly the young translators of Aristsenetus were under the 
mfluence of this sort of inspiration appears from every para- 
graph of Halhed's letters, and might easily, indeed, be concluded 
of Sheridan, from the very limited circumstances of his father, 
w^ho had nothing besides the pension of £200 a year, conferred 
upon him in consideration of his literary merits, and the little 
profits he derived from his lectures in Bath, to support with 
decency himself and his family. The prospects of Halhed were 
much more golden, but he was far too gay and mercurial to be 
prudent ; and from the very scanty supplies which his father 
allowed him, had quite as little of " le superflu, chose si neces- 
saire," as his friend. But whatever were his other desires and 
pursuits, a visit to Bath, — to that place which contained the two 
persons he most valued in friendship and in love, — was the 
grand object of all his financial speculations ; and among other 
ways and means that, in the delay of the expected resources 
from Aristsenetus, presented themselves, was an exhibition of 
£20 a year, which the college had lately given him, and w^ith 
five pounds of which he thought he mi^ht venture '* adire 
Corinthum." 

Though Sheridan had informed his friend that the translation 
was put to press some time in March, 1771, it does not appear to 
have been given into the hands of Wilkie, the publisher, till the 
beginning of May, when Mr. Ker writes thus to Bath : '' Your 
Aristaenetus is in the hands of Mr. Wilkie, in St. Paul's Church- 
yard, and to put you out of suspense at once, will certainly make 
his appearance about the first of June next, in the form of a neat 
volume, price 85. or 35. 6c/., as may best suit his size, &c., w^hich 
cannot be more nearly determined at present. I have undertaken 



80 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

the task of correcting for the press Some of the 

Epistles that I have perused seem to me elegant and poetical ; in 
others I could not observe equal beauty, and here and there I 
could wish there was some little amendment. You will paidon 
this liberty I take, and set it down to the account of old-fashioned 
friendship." Mr. Ker, to judge from his letters, (which, in addi- 
tion to their other laudable points, are dated with a precision 
truly exemplary.) was a very kind, useful, and sensible person, 
and in the sober hue of his intellect exhibited a striking contrast? 
to the sparkling vivacity of the two sanguine and impatient young 
wits, whose affairs he so good naturedly undertook to nego- 
tiate. 

At length in August, 1771, Aristgenetus made its appearance 
— contrary to the advice o£. the bookseller, and of Mr. Ker, who 
represented to Sheridan the unpropitiousness of the season, partic- 
ularly for a first experiment in authorship, and advised the post- 
ponement of the publication till October. But the translators 
were too eager for the rich harvest of emolument they had pro- 
mised themselves, and too full of that pleasing but often fatal de- 
lusion — that calenture, under the influence of which young voya- 
gers to the shores of Fame imagine they already see her green 
fields and groves in the treacherous waves around them — to listen 
to the suggestions of mere calculating men of business. The first 
account they heard of the reception of the work was flattering 
enough to prolong awhile this dream of vanity. " It begins 
(writes Mr. Ker, in about a fortnight after the publication,) to 
make some noise, and is fathered on Mr. Johnson, author of the 
English Dictionary, &;c. See to-day's Gazetteer. The critics are 
admirable in discovering a concealed author by his style, man- 
ner, &;c." 

Their disappointment at the ultimate failure of the book was 
proportioned, we may suppose, to the sanguineness of their first 
expectations. But the reluctance Vrdth which an author yields to 
the sad certainty of being unread, is apparent in the eagerness 
with which Halhed avails himself of every encouragement for a 
rally of Ils hopes. The Critical Reviewers, it seems, had given 



EIGHT EON. RICIIAKD BRIKSLEY SHERIDAN. ,81 

the work a tolerable character, and quoted the first Epistle."* 
The Weeidy Review in the Public Ledger had also spoken well 
of it, and cited a specimen. The Oxford Magazine had tran- 
scribed two whole Epistles, without mentioning from whence they 
were taken. Every body, he says, seemed to have read the 
book, and one of those hawking booksellers who attend the coffee- 
houses assured him it was written by Dr. Armstrong, author 
of the GEconomy of Love. On the strength of all this he re- 
commends that another volume of the Epistles should be pub- 
lished immediately — being of opinion that the readers of the first 
volume would be sure to purchase the second, and that the pub- 
lication of the second would put it in the heads of others to buy 
the first. Under a sentence containing one of these sanguine an- 
ticipations, there is written, in Sheridan's hand, the word 
" Quixote !" 

They were never, of course, called upon for the second part, 
and, whether we consider ih^ merits of the original or of the 
translation, the world has but little to regret in the loss. Aristse- 
netus is one^ of those weak, florid sophists, who flourished in the 
decline and degradation of ancient literature, and strewed their 
gaudy flowers of rhetoric over the dead muse of Greece. He is 
evidently of a much later period than Alciphron, to whom he is 
also very inferier in purity of diction, variety of subject, and 
playfulness of irony. But neither of them ever deserved to be 
wakened from that sleep, in which the commentaries of Bergler, 
De Pauw, and a few more such industrious scholars have shroud- 
ed them. 

The translators of Aristasnetus, in rendering his flowery prose 
into verse, might have found a precedent and model for their 
task in Ben Jonson, whose popular song, " Drink to me only 
with thine eyes," is, as Mr. Cumberland first remarked, but a 

* In one of the Reviews I have seen it thus spoken of :— " No such writer as Aristeene- 
tus ever existed in the classic aera ; nor did even the unhappy schools, after the destruc- 
tion of the Eastern empire, produce such a vnriler. It was left to the latter times of monk 
ish imi)Osition to give such trash as this, on which the translator has ill spent his time. 
We have been as idly employed in reading it, and our readers will in proportion lofe their 
time in perusing this article." 



32 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

piece of fanciful mosaic, collected out of the Icve-letters of the 
sophist Philostratus. But many of the narrations in Aristsenetus 
are incapable of being elevated into poetry ; and. unluckily, these 
familiar parts seem chiefly to have fallen to the department of 
Ilalhed, who was far less gifted than his coadjutor with that 
artist-like touch, which polishes away the mark of vulgarity, and 
gives an air of elegance even to poverty. As the volume is not 
in many hands, the following extract from one of the Epistles 
may be acceptable — as well from the singularity of the scene de- 
scribed, as from the specimen it affords of the merits of the 
translation : ^ 

*' Listen — another pleasure I display, 
That help'd delightfully the time away. 
From distant vales, where bubbles from its source 
A crystal rill, they dug a winding course : 
See ! thro' the grove a narrow lake extends. 
Crosses each plot, to each plantation bends ; 
And while the fount in new meanders glides, 
The forest brightens with refreshing tides. 
Tow'rds us they taught the new-born stream to flow, 
Tow'rds us it crept, irresolute and slow ; 
Scarce had the infant current crickled by. 
When lo ! a wondrous fleet attracts our eye ; 
Laden with draughts might greet a monarch's tongue; 
The mimic navigation swam along. 
Hasten, ye ship-like goblets, down the vale, 
*Your freight a flagon, and a leaf your sail ; 
may no envious rush thy course impede, 
Or floating apple stop thy tide-born speed. 
His mildest breath a gentle zephyr gave ; 
The little vessels trimly stem'd the wave : 
Their precious merchandise to land they bore. 
And one by one resigned the balmy store. 
Stretch but a hand, we boarded them, and quaft 
With native luxury the tempered draught. • 

For where they loaded the nectareous fleet, 
The goblet glow'd with too intense a heat ; 

* " In the original, this luxurious image is pursued s'o far that the very leaf which is 
-epresented as the sail of the vessel, is particularized as of a medicinal nature, capable 
of preventing any ill effects the \vine might produce." — Note by the Translator. 



BIGHT HON. EICHAKD BRINSLEY SHERIDAK. 83 

CooPd by degrees in these convivial ships, 
With nicest taste it met our thirsty lips.'' 

As a scholar, such as Halhed, could hardly have been led into 
the mistake, of supposing m MriSixa (purs (puXXov to mean " a leaf 
of a medicinal nature," we may, perhaps, from this circumstance 
not less than from the superior workmanship of the verses, at- 
tribute the whole of this Epistle and notes to Sheridan. 

There is another Epistle, the 12th, as evidently from the pen of 
his friend, the greater part of which is original, and shows, by its 
raciness and vigor, what difference there is between " the first 
sprightly runnings" of an author's own mind, and his cold, vapid 
transfusion of the thoughts of another. From stanza 10th to the 
end is all added by the translator, and all spirited — though full of 
a bold defying libertinism, as unlike as possible to the effeminate 
lubricity of the poor sophist, upon whom, in a grave, treacher- 
ous note, the responsibility of the whole is laid. But by far the 
most interesting part of the volume is the last Epistle of the 
book, " From a Lover resigning his Mistress to his Friend," — in 
which Halhed has contrived to extract from the unmeaningness 
of the original a direct allusion to his own fate ; and, forgetting 
Aristsenetus and his dull personages, thinks only of himself, and 
Sheridan, and Miss Linley. 

" Thee, then, my friend, — if yet a wi'etch may claim 
A last attention by that once dear name, — 
Thee I address : — the cause you must approve ; 
I yield you — what I cannot cease to love. 
Be thine the blissful lot, the nymph be thine : 
I yield my love, — sure, friendship may be mine. 
Yet must no thought of me torment thy breast : 
Forget me, if my griefs disturb thy rest, 
Whilst still I'll pray that thou may'st never know 
The pangs of baffled love, or feel my woe. 
But sure to thee, dear, charming — fatal maid! 
(For me thon'st charmed, and me thou hast be tray 'd,) 
This last request I need not recommend — 
Forget the lover thou, as he the friend. 
Bootless such charge ! for ne'er did pity move 
A heart that mockM the suit of humble love, 
TOL. I. 2- 



34 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

Yet, in some thoughtful hour — if such can be, 
Where love, Timocrates, is join'd with thee — 
In some lone pause of jov, when pleasures pall, 
And fancy broods o'er joys it can't recall. 
Haply a thought of me, (for thou, my friend, 
May'st then have taught that stubborn heart to bend,) 
A thought of him whose passion was not weak. 
May dash one transient blush upon her cheek ; 
Haply a tear — (for I shall surely then 
Be past all power to raise her scorn again — ) 
Haply, I say, one self-dried tear may fall : — 
One tear she'll give, for whom I yielded all ! 



My life has lost its aim ! — that fatal fair 

Was all its object, all its hope or care : 

She was the goal, to which my course was bent, 

Where every wish, where every thought was sent ; 

A secret influence darted from her eyes, — 

Each look, attraction, and herself the prize. 

Concentred there, I liv'd for her alone ; 

To make her glad and to be blest was one. 

* ♦ * * * * 

Adieu, my friend, — nor blame this sad adieu. 
Though sorrow guides my pen, it blames not you. 
Forget me — 'tis my pray'r ; nor seek to know 
The fate of liim whose portion must be woe. 
Till the cold earth outstretch her friendly arms, 
And Death convince me that he can have charms." 

But Halhed's was not the only heart that sighed deeply and 
hopelessly for the young- Maid of Bath, who appears, indeed, to 
have spread her gentle conquests to an extent almost unparalleled 
in the annals of beauty. Her personal charms, the exquisiteness 
of her musical talents, and the full light of publicity which 
her profession threw upon both, naturally attracted round her a 
crowd of admirers, in whom the sympathy of a common pursuit 
soon kindled into rivalry, till she became at length an object of 
vanity as well as of love. Iler extreme youth, too, — for she was 
little more than sixteen when Sheridan first met her, — must have 
removed, even from minds the most fastidious and delicate, tha^ 



RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 35 

repugnance they might justly have felt to her profession, if she 
had lived much longer under its tarnishing influence, or lost, by 
frequent exhibitions before the public, that fine gloss of femi- 
nine modesty, for whose absence not all the talents and accom- 
plishments of the whole sex can atone. 

She had been, even at this early age, on the point of marriage 
with Mr. Long, an old gentleman of considerable fortune in Wilt- 
shire, who proved the reality of his attachment to her in a way 
which few young lovers would be romantic enough to imitate. 
On her secretly representing to him that she never could be happy 
as his wife, he generously took upon himself the whole blame 
of breaking off the alliance, and even indemnified the father, 
who was proceeding to bring the transaction into court, by 
settling 3000/. upon his daughter. Mr. Sheridan, who owed to 
this liberal ^nduct not only the possession of the woman he 
loved, but the means of supporting her during the first years of 
their marriage, spoke invariably of Mr. Long, who lived to a 
very advanced age, with all the kindness and respect which such 
a disinterested character merited. 

It was about the middle of the year 1770 that the Sheridans 
took up their residence in King's Mead"^ Street, Bath, where an 
acquaintance commenced between them and Mr. Linley's family, 
which the kindred tastes of the young people soon ripened into 
intimacy. It was not to be expected, — though parents, in gene- 
ral, are as blind to the first approach of these dangers as they 
are rigid and unreasonable after they have happened, — that such 
youthful poets and musiciansf should come together without 
Love very soon making one of the party. Accordingly the two 
brothers became deeply enamored of Miss Linley. Her heart, 
however, was not so wholly im-preoccupied as to yield at once 
to the passion which her destiny had in store for her. One of 
tho^ transient preferences, which in early youth are mistaken 

* They also lived, during a part of their stay at Bath, in New King Street. 

t Dr. Burney, in his Biographical Sketch of Mr. Linley, wTitten for Rees' Cyclop^xdia, 
calls thfc Linley family '<a nest of nightingales." The only surviving member of this 
accomplished family is Mr. William Linley, whose taste and talent, both in poetry and 
music, most worthily sustain the reputation of the name that he bears. 



S6 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

for love, had already taken lively possession of her imagina- 
tion ; and to this the following lines, written at that time by Mr, 
Sheridan, allude : 

TO THE RECORDING A2CGEL. 

Cherub of Heaven, that from my secret stand 

Dost note the follies of each mortal here, 
Oh, if Eliza's steps employ thy hand, 

Blot the sad legend with a mortal tear. 
Nor when she errs, through passion's wild extreme, 

Mark then her course, nor heed each trifling wrong ; 
Nor, when her sad attachment is her theme. 

Note down the transports of her erring tongue. 
But, when she sighs for sorrows not her own, 

Let that dear sigh to Mercy's cause be given ; 
And bear that tear to her Creator's throne, 

Which glistens in the eye upraised to Heav^ 

But in love, as in everything else, the power of a mind like 
Sheridan's must have made itself felt through all obstacles and 
difficulties. He was not long in winning the entire affections of 
the young " Syren," though the number and w^ealth of his rivals, 
the ambitious views of her father, and the temptations to which 
she herself was hourly exposed, kept his jealousies and fears 
perpetually on the watch. He is supposed, indeed, to have been 
indebted to self observation for that portrait of a wayward and 
morbidly sensitive lover, w^hich he has drawn so strikingly in the 
character of Falkland. 

With a mnid in this state of feverish wakefulness, it is remarka- 
ble that he should so long have succeeded in concealing his 
attachment from the eyes of those most interested in discovering 
it. Even his brother Charles was for some time wholly unaware 
of their rivalry, and went on securely indulging in a passion 
which it was hardly possible, w^ith such opportunities of inter- 
course, to resist, and which survived long after Miss Linley's 
selection of another had extinguished every hope in his heart, but 
that of seeing her happy. Halhed, too, who at that period cor- 
responded constantly with Sheridan, and confided to him the 



RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 87 

love with which he also had been inspired by this enchantress, 
was for a length of time left in the same darkness upon the sub- 
ject, and without the slightest suspicion that the epidemic had 
reached his friend, whose only mode of evading the many ten- 
der inquiries and messages with which Halhed's letters abounded, 
was by referring to answers which had by some strange fatality 
miscarried, and which, we may conclude, without much unchaVi- 
tableness, had never been written. 

Miss Linley went frequently to Oxford, to perform at the 
oratorios and concerts ; and it may easily be imagined that the 
ancient allegory of the Muses throwing chains over Cupid was 
here reversed, and the quiet shades of learning not a little dis- 
turbed by the splendor of these " angel visits. " The letters of 
Halhed give a lively idea, not only of his own intoxication, but 
of the sort of contagious delirium, like that at Abdera described 
by Lucian, with which the young men of Oxford were affected by 
this beautiful gii^l. In describing her singing he quotes part of 
a Latin letter which he himself had written to a friend upon first 
hearing her ; and it is a curious proof of the readiness of Sheri- 
dan, notwithstanding his own fertility, to avail himself of the 
thoughts of others, that we find in this extract, word for word, 
the same extravagant comparison of the effects of music to the 
process of Egyptian embalmment — " extracting the brain through 
the ears " — which was afterwards transplanted into the dialogue 
of the Duenna : " Mortuum quondam ante jEgypti medici quam 
pollincirent cerehella de auribus unco quodam hamo solehant ex- 
irakere ; sic de meis auribus non cerebrum, sed cor ipsum exhausit 
lusciniola, c&c.y cfcc." He mentions, as the rivals most dreaded 
by her admirers, Norris, the singer, whose musical talents, it 
was thought, recommended him to her, and Mr. Watts, a gen- 
tleman commoner, of very large fortune. 

While all hearts and tongues were thus occupied about Miss 
Linley, it is not wonderful that rumors of matrimony and elope- 
ment should, from time to time, circulate among her apprehen- 
sive admirers ; or that the usual ill-compliment should be paid 
to her sex of supposing that wealth must be the winner cf tht? 



38 MEMOIKS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

prize. It was at one moment currently reported at Oxford that 
she had gone off to Scotland with a young man of £3,000 a 
year, and the panic which the intelligence spread is described in 
one of these letters to Sheridan (who, no doubt, shared in it) as 
producing " long faces " everywhere. Not only, indeed, among 
her numerous lovers, but among all who delighted in her public 
performances, an alarm would naturally be felt at the prospect 
of her becoming private property : 

" Te juga Taygeti^ posito te Mcenala Jiehunt 
Venatu, mcestoque diu lugehere Cyntho. 
Delphica quinetiam fratris deluhra tacebuntJ^* 

Thee, thee, when hurried from our eyes away, 
Laconia's hills shall mourn for many a day— 
The Arcadian hunter shall forget his chase, 
And tui-n aside to think upon that face ; 
While many an hour Apollo's songless shrine 
Shall wait in silence for a voice like thine ! 

But to the honor of her sex, which is, in general, more disin- 
terested than the other, it was found that neither rank nor 
wealth had influenced her heart in its election ; and Halhed, who, 
like others, had estimated the strength of his rivals by their 
rent-rolls, discovered at last that his unpretending friend, Sheri- 
dan, (whose advances in courtship and in knowledge seem to have 
been equally noiseless and triumphant,) was the chosen favorite of 
her, at whose feet so many fortunes lay. Like that Saint, Cecilia, 
by whose name she was always called, she had long welcomed 
to her soul a secret visitant,f whose gifts were of a kigher and 
more radiant kind than the mere wealthy and lordly of this 
world can proffer. A letter, written by Halhed on the prospect 
of his departure for India, J alludes so delicately to this discovery, 

♦ Claudian. De Rapt. Proserp. Lib. ii. v, 244. 

f " The yoath, found in her chamber, had in his hand two crowns or wreaths, the one 
of lilies, the other of roses, which he had brought from Paradise." — Legend of St, 
Cecilia. 

X The letter is evidently in answer to one which he had just received from Sheridan, in 
vviiich iliss Linley had written a few words expressive of her wishes for his health and 
aappincsis. Mr. Halhed sailed for India about the latter end of this year. 



tllGHT HON. RiCHAKi) BRINSLEY SHEKIDAK. 80 

and describes the state of his own heart so mournfully, that I 
must again, in parting with him and his correspondence, express 
the strong regret that I feel at not being able to indulge the 
reader with a perusal of these letters. Not only as a record of 
the first short flights of Sheridan's genius, but as a picture, from 
the life, of the various feelings of youth, its desires and fears, its 
feverish hopes and fanciful melancholy, they could not have 
failed to be rea«l with the deepest interest. 

To this peri^'^d of Mr. Sheridan's life we are indebted for most 
of those elegant love-verses, which are so well known and so 
often quoted. The lines " Uncouth is this moss-covered grotto of 
stone," were addressed to Miss Linley, after having offended her 
by one of tUose lectures upon decorum of conduct, which jealous 
lovers so ft^.quently inflict upon their mistresses, — and the grotto, 
immortali'^ed ty their quarrel, is supposed to have been in Spring 
Gardens, ihen the fashionable place of resort in Bath. 

I h^vo elsewhere remarked that the conceit in the following 
%^fmB9 resembles a thought in some verses of Angerianus : — 

And thou, stony grot, in thy arch may'st preserve 
Two lingering drops of the night-fallen dew, 

Let them fall on her bosom of snow, and they'll serve 
As tears of my sorrow entrusted to you. 

At qicum per niveam cervicem injluxerit humor 
Dicite non roris sed pluvia hcec lacrimce. 

Whether Sheridan was likely to have been a reader of Ange- 
rianus is, I think, doubtful — at all events the coincidence is curious. 

" Dry be that tear, my gentlest love," is supposed to have 
been written at a later period ; but it was most probably pro- 
duced at the time of his courtship, for he wrote but few love 
verses after his marriage — like the nightingale (as a French 
editor of Bonefonius says, in remarking a similar circumstance of 
that poet) " qui developpe le charme de sa voix tant qu'il vent 
plaire a sa compagne — sont-ils unis ? il se tait, 11 n'a plus le be- 
soin de lui plaire." This song having been hitherto printed in- 
correctly, I shall give it here, as it is in the copies preserved by 
his relations. 



4:0 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

Dry be that tear, my gentlest love,* 

Be hush'd tli^t struggling sigh, 
Nor seasons, day, nor fate shall prove 

More fix'd, more true than I. 
Hush'd be that sigh, be dry that tear, 
Cease boding doubt, cease anxious fear. — 
Dry be that tear. 

Ask'st thou how long my love will stay, 

When all that's new is past ; — 
How long, ah Delia, can I say 

How long my life will last ? 
Dry be that tear, be hush'd that sigh, 
At least I'll love thee till I die.— 
Hush'd be that sigh. 

And does that thought affect thee too, 

The thought of Sylvio's death. 
That he who only breathed for you. 

Must yield that faithful breath? 
Hush'd be that sigh, be dry that tear, 
Nor let us lose our Heaven here.— ' 
Dry be that tear. 

There is in the second stanza here a close resemblance to one 
of the madrigals of Montreuil, a French poet, to whom Sir J, 
Moore was indebted for the point of his well known verses, " If 
in that breast, so good, so pure."f Mr. Sheridan, however, knew 
nothing of French, and neglected every opportunity of learning 
it, till, by a very natural process, his ignorance of the language 
grew into hatred of it. Besides, we have the immediate source 
from which he derived the thought of this stanza, in one of the 
essays of Hume, who, being a reader of foreign literature, most 

♦ An Elegy by Halhed, transcribed in one of his letters to Sheridan, begins th.is 

" Dry be that tear, be hush'd that struggling sigh.'- 

f The grief that on my quiet preys, 

That rends my heart and cheeks my tongue, 
I fear wil-l last me all my days, 
And feel it will not last me long. 

It is thus in Montreuil . 

C'est un mal que j'aurai tout le tems de ma via 
Mais je ne Paurai pas long-tera*. 



EIGHT HON. RICHARD BRlNSLEY SHERIDAN. 41 

probablj found it in Montreuil.* The passage in Hume (which 
Sheridan has done little more than versify) is as follo\ys : — " Why 
so often ask me, How long my love shall yet endure ? Alas, my 
Caelia, can I resolve the question % Do I know how long my life 
shall yet endure ?"f 

The pretty lines, " Mark'd you her cheek of rosy hue V were 
written not upon Miss Linley, as has been generally stated, but 
upon Lady Margaret Fordyce, and form part of a poem which 
he published in 1771, descriptive of the principal beauties of 
Bath, entitled " Clio's Protest, or the Picture varnished," — being 
an answer to some verses by Mr. Miles Peter Andrews, called 
" The Bath Picture," in which Lady Margaret was thus intrcv 
duced : 

" Remark too the dimpling, sweet smile 
Lady Marg'ret's fine countenance wears." 

The following is the passage in Mr. Sheridan's poem, entire ; 
and the beauty of the six favorite lines shines out so conspicuously, 
that we cannot wonder at their having been so soon detached, 
like ill-set gems, from the loose and clumsy workmanship around 
them. 

" But, hark ! — did not our bard repeat 
The love-born name of M-rg-r-t ? — 
Attention seizes every ear ; 
We pant for the description here : 
If ever dulness left thy brow, 
' Pindar,'' we say, ^ 'twill leave thee now.' 
But ! old Dulness' son anointed 
His mother never disappointed! — 
And here we all were left to seek 
A dimple in F-rd-ce's cheek ! 

* Or m an Italian song of Menage, from which Montreuil, who vt'^a accustomed to 
such thefts, most probably stole it. The point m the Italian is, as far as I can remember 
It, expressed thus : 

In van, o Filli, tu chiedi 

Se lungamente durera Pardore 

• « « « « 

Chi lo potrebbe dire ? 
Incerta, o Filli, e Pora del morire 

♦ The Epicurean. 



42 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

" And could you really discover, 
In gazing those sweet beauties over, 
No other charm, no winning grace, 
Adorning either mind or face, 
But one poor dimple to express 
The quintessence of loveliness? 
. . . .Mark'd you her cheek of rosy hue? 
Mark'd you her eye of sparkling blue ? 
That eye in liquid circles moving ; 
That cheek abash 'd at Man's approving ; 
The one^ Love's arrows darting round ; 
The other, blushing at the wound : 
Did she not speak, did she not move, 
Now Fallas— now the Queen of Love !'' 

There is little else in this poem worth being extracted, tnougn 
it consists of about four hundred lines ; except, perhaps, his pic- 
ture of a good country housewife, which affords an early speci- 
men of that neat pointedness of phrase, which gave his humor, 
both poetic and dramatic, such a peculiar edge and polish : — 

^' We see the Dame, in rustic pride, 
A bunch of keys to grace her side, 
Stalking across the well-swept entry. 
To hold her council in the pantry ; 
Or, with prophetic soul, foretelling 
The peas will boil well by the shelling ; 
Or, bustling in her private closet. 
Prepare her lord his morning posset ; 
And, while the hallowed mixture thickens. 
Signing death-warrants for the chickens : 
Else, greatly pensive, poring o'er 
Accounts her cook had thumbed before ; 
One eye cast up upon that great book, 
Yclep'd The Family Receipt Book; 
By which she's ruled in all her courses. 
From stewing figs to drenching horses. 
— Then pans and pickling skillets rise, 
In dreadful lustre, to our eyes, 
With store of sweetmeats, rang'd in order, 
And potted nothings on the border ; 
While salves and caudle-cups between. 
With squalling children, close the scene.'' 



HIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLeY SHERIDAN. 43 

We find here, too, the source of one of those familiar lines, 
which so many quote without knowing whence they come ; — one 
of those stray fragments, whose parentage is doubtful, but to 
which (as the law says of illegitimate children) ''pater est pop- 
ulusP 

" You write with ease, to show your breeding, 
But easy writing's curst hard reading^' 

In the following passage, with more of the tact of a man of the 
world than the ardor of a poet, he dismisses the object nearest 
his heart with the mere passing gallantry of a compliment : — 

^' ! should your genius ever rise, 
And make you Laureate in the skies, 
I'd hold my life, in twenty years, 
You'd spoil the music of the spheres. 
— Nay, should the rapture-breathing Nine 
In one celestial concert join. 
Their sovereign's power to rehearse, 
— Were you to furnish them with verse, 
By Jove, I'd fly the heavenly throng. 
Though Phoebus play'd and Linley sung." 

On the opening of the New Assembly Rooms at Bath, which 
commenced with a ridotto, Sept. 30, 1771, he wrote a humorous 
description of the entertainment, called " An Epistle from Timo- 
thy Screw to his Brother Henry, Waiter at Almack's," which ap- 
peared first in the Bath Chronicle, and was so eagerly sought af- 
ter, that Crutwell, the editor, was induced to publish it in a sepa- 
rate form. The allusions in this trifle have, of course, lost their 
zest by time ; and a specimen or two of its humor will be all 
that I's necessary here. 

" Two rooms were first opened — -the long and the round one, 
(These Hogstyegon names only serve to confound one,) 
Both splendidly lit with the new chandeliers, 
Witlr drops hanging down like the bobs at Peg's ears : 
While jewels of paste reflected the rays. 
And Bristol-stone diamonds gave strength to the blaze : 



44 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

So that it was doubtful, to view the bright clusters, 

Which sent the most light out, the ear-rings or lustres. 
****** 

Nor less among you was the medley, ye fair ! 

I believe there were some besides quality there : 

Miss Sjpiggot, Miss Brussels, Miss Tape, and Miss Socket y 

Miss IHnket, and aunt, with her leathern pocket, 

With good Mrs. Soaker, who made her old chin go, 

For hours, hobnobbing with Mrs. Syringo : 

Had Tib staid at home, I b'lieve none would have miss'd her, 

Or pretty Peg Runtj with her tight little sister,* tfec. &c. 



RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 45 



CHAPTER II. 

DUELS WITH MR. MATHEWS. — MARRIAGE WITH 
MISS LINLEY. 

Towards the close of the year 1771, the elder Mr. Sheridan 
went to Dublin, to perform at the theatre of that city, — leaving 
his young and lively family at Bath, with nothing but their hearts 
and imaginations to direct them. 

The following letters, which passed between him and his son 
Richard during his absence, though possessing little other inter- 
est than that of having been written at such a period, will not, 
perhaps, be unwelcome to the reader : — 

"My Dear Richard, Dublin, Dec. Ith^ 1771. 

'• How could you be so wrong-headed as to commence cold 
bathing at such a season of the year, and I suppose without any 
preparation too ? You have paid sufficiently for your folly, but 
I hope the ill effects of it liave been long since over. You and 
your brother are fond of quacking, a most dangerous disposition 
with regard to health. Let slight things pass away themselves ; 
in a case that requires assistance do nothing without advice. Mr. 
Crook is a very able man in his way. Should a physician be at any 
time wanting, apply to Dr. Nesbitt, and tell him at leaving Bath 
I recommended you all to his care. This indeed I intended to 
have mentioned to him, but it slipped my memory. I forgot Mr 
Crook's bill, too, but desire I may have the amount by the next 
letter. Pray what is the meaning of my hearing so seldom from 
Bath] Six weeks here, and but two letters ! You were very 
tardy ; what are your sisters about ? I shall not easily forgive 
any future omissions. I suppose Charles received ray answer to 



46 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

his, and the 201. from Whately. I shall order another to be sent 
at Qiristmas for the rent and other necessaries. I have not time 
at present to enter upon the subject of English authors, &c. but 
shall write to you upon that head when I get a little leisure. No 
thing can be conceived in a more deplorable state than the stage 
of Dublin. I found two miserable companies opposing and 
starving each other. I chose the least bad of them ; and, wretched 
as they are, it has had no effect on my nights, numbers having 
been turned away every time I played, and the receipts have 
been larger than when I had Barry, his wife, and Mrs. Fitz-Henry 
to play with me. However, I shall not be able to continue it 
long, as there is no possibility of getting up a sufficient number 
of plays with such poor materials. I purpose to have done the 
week after next, and apply vigorously to the material point which 
brought me over. I find all ranks and parties very zealotis for 
forwarding my scheme, and have reason to believe it will be car 
ried in parliament after the recess, without opposition. It was in 
vain to have attempted it before, for never was party violence* 
carried to such a height as in this sessions ; the House seldom 
breaking up till eleven or twelve at night. From these contests, 
the desire of improving in the article of elocution is become very 
general. There are no less than five persons of rank and for- 
tune now waiting my leisure to become my pupils. Remember 
me to all friends, particularly to our good landlord and landlady. 
I am, with love and blessing to you all, 

"Your affectionate father, 

"Thomas Sheridan. 
" P. S. — Tell your sisters I shall send the poplins as soon as ' 
can get an opportunity.'' 

"Dear Father, 
" We have been for some time in hopes of receivmg a ^etter, 
that we might know that you had acquitted us of neglect in 
writing. At the same time we imagine that the time is not far 

The money-bill, brought forward tliis year under Lord Tovmsend's administratioa^ 
encounlered violent opposition, and was finally rejected. 



RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 47 

when wTiting will be unnecessary ; and we cannot help Avishing 
to know the posture of the affairs, which, as you have not talked 
of returning, seem probable to detain you longer than you in- 
tended. I am perpetually asked when Mr. Sheridan is to have 
his patent for the theatre, which all the Irish here take for granted, 
and I often receive a great deal of information from them on the 
subject. Yet I cannot help being vexed when I see in the Dub- 
lin papers such bustling accounts of the proceedings of your 
House of Commons, as I remember it was your argument against 
attempting any thing from parliamentary authority in England. 
However, the folks here regret you, as one that is to be fixed in 
another kingdom, and will scarcely believe that you will ever 
visit Bath at all ; and we are often asked if we have not received 
the letter which is to call us over. 

" I could scarcely have conceived that tlie winter was so near 
departing, were I not now writing after dinner by daylight. In- 
deed the first winter-season is not yet over at Bath. They have 
balls, concerts, dz;c. at the rooms, from the old subscription still, 
and the spring ones are immediately to succeed them. They are 
likewise going to perform oratorios here. Mr. Linley and his 
whole family, down to the seven year olds, are to support one 
set at the new rooms, and a band of singers from London another 
at the old. Our weather here, or the effects of it, have been so 
uninviting to all kinds of birds, that there has not been the small- 
est excuse to take a gun into the fields this winter ; — a point more 
to the regret of Charles than myself 

" We are all now in dolefuls for the Princess Dowao^er ; but 
as there was no necessity for our being dressed or weeping mourn- 
ers, we were easily provided. Our acquaintances stand pretty 
much the same as when you left us, — only that I think in general 
we are less intimate, by which I believe you will not think us 
great losers. Indeed, excepting Mr. Wyndham, I have not met 
with one person with whom I would wish to be intimate ; though 
there was a Mr. Lutterel, (brother to the Colonel,) — who was 
some months ago introduced to me by an old Harrow acquaint- 
ance,— »who made me many professions at parting, and wanted 



48 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

me vastly to name some way in which he could be useful to me ; 
Dut the relying on acquaintances^ or seeking of friendships, is a 
fault which I think I shall always have prudence to avoid. 

" Lissy begins to be tormented again with the tooth-ache ;— 
otherwise, we are all well. 

" I am, Sir, your sincerely dutiful and affectionate son, ^ 
" Friday, Feb. 29. " R. B. Sheridan. 

" I beg you will not judge of my attention to the improvement 
of my hand- writing by this letter, as I am out of the way of a 
better pen." 

Charles Sheridan, now one-and-twenty, the oldest and gravest 
of the party, finding his passion for Miss Linley increase every 
day, and conscious of the imprudence of yielding to it any fur- 
ther, wisely determined to fly from the struggle altogether. 
Baving taken a solemn farewell of her in a letter, which his 
youngest sister delivered, he withdrew to a farm-house about 
seven or eight miles from Bath, little suspecting that he left his 
brother in full possession of that heart, of which he thus reluc- 
tantly and hopelessly raised the siege. Nor would this secret 
perhaps have been discovered for some time, had not another 
lover, of a less legitimate kind than either, by the alarming im- 
portunity of his courtship, made an explanation on all sides ne- 
cessary. 

Captain Mathews, a married man and intimate with Miss Lin- 
ley's family, presuming upon the innocent familiarity which her 
youth and his own station permitted between them, had for some 
time not onlv rendered her remarkable by his indiscreet atten- 
tions in public, but had even persecuted her in private with those 
unlawful addresses and proposals, which a timid female will 
sometimes rather endure, than encounter that share of the shame, 
which may be reflected upon herself by their disclosure. To the 
threat of self-destruction, often tried with eflect in these cases, he 
is said to have added the still more unmanly menace of ruining, 
at least, her reputation, if he could not undermine her virtue. 
Terrified by his perseverance, and dreading the consequences oi 



RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 49 

her father's temper, if this violation of his confidence and hospi- 
tality were exposed to him, she at length confided her distresses 
to Richard Sheridan ; who, having consulted with his sister, and, 
foi- the first time, disclosed to her the state of his heart with re- 
spect to Miss Linley, lost no time in expostulating with Mathews, 
upon the cruelty, libertinism, and fruitlessness of his pursuit. 
Such a remonstrance, however, was but little calculated to con- 
ciliate the forbearance of this professed man of gallantry, who, 
it appears by the following allusion to him under the name of Lo- 
thario, in a poem written by Sheridan at the time, still counted 
upon the possibility of gaining his object, or, at least, blighting 
the fruit which he could not reach : — 

Nor spare the flirting Cassoe^d rogiie, 
Nor ancient Cullin's polish'd brogue ; 
Nor gay Lotharioh nobler name, 
That Nimrod to all female fame. 

In consequence of this persecution, and an increasing dislike to 
her profession, which made her shrink more and more from the 
gaze of the many, in proportion as she became devoted to the 
love of one, she adopted, early in 1772, the romantic resolution 
of flying secretly to France and taking refuge in a convent, — m- 
tending, at ^ the same time, to indemnify her father, to whom she 
was bound till the age of 21, by the surrender to him of part of 
the sum which Mr. Long had settled upon her. Sheridan, who, 
it is probable, had been the chief adviser of her flight, was, of 
course, not slow m offering to be the partner of it. His sister, 
whom he seems to have persuaded that his conduct in this affliir 
arose solely from a wish to serve Miss Linley, as a friend, with- 
out any design or desire to take advantage of her elopement, as 
a lover, not only assisted them with money out of her little fund 
for house-expenses, but gave them letters of introduction to a 
family with whom she had been acquainted at St. Quentin. On 
the evening appointed for their departure, — while Mr. Linley, 
his eldest son, and Miss Maria Linley, were engaged at a con- 
cert, from which the young Cecilia herself had been, on a plea of 

VOL. I. 3 



60 MEMOIES OF THE LIFE OF THE 

illness, excused, — she was conve3^ed by Sheridan in a sedan-chair 
from her father's house in the Crescent, to a post>chaise which 
waited for them on the London road, and in which she found a 
woman whom her lover had hired, as a sort of protecting Mi- 
nerva, to accompany them in their flight. 

It will be recollected that Sheridan was at this time little more 
than twenty, and his companion just entering her eighteenth 
year. On their arrival in London, with an adroitness which 
was, at least, very dramatic, he introduced her to an old friend 
of his family, (Mr. Ewart, a respectable brandy-merchant in the 
city,) as a rich heiress who had consented to elope with him to 
the Continent ; — in consequence of which the old gentleman, 
with many commendations of his wisdom for having given up 
the imprudent pursuit of Miss Linley, not only accommodated 
the fugitives with a passage on board a ship, which he had ready 
to sail from the port of London to Dunkirk, but gave them let- 
ters of recommendation to his correspondents at that place, 
who with the same zeal and dispatch facilitated their journey 
to Lisle. 

On their leaving Dunkirk, as was natural to expect, the chival- 
rous and disinterested protector degenerated into a mere sel- 
fish lover. It was represented by him, with arguments which 
seemed to appeal to prudence as well as feeling, that, after the 
step which they had taken, she could not possibly appear in 
England again but as his wife. He was therefore, he said, re- 
solved not to deposit her in a convent till she had consented, by 
the ceremony of a marriage, to confirm to him that right of 
protecting her, which he had now but temporarily assumed. It 
did not, we may suppose, require much eloquence to convince 
her heart of the truth of this reasoning ; and, accordingly, at a 
little village, not far from Calais, they were married about the 
latter end of March, 1772, by a priest well known for his ser- 
vices on such occasions. 

They thence immediately proceeded to Lisle, where Miss 
Linley, as she must still be called, giving up her intention of 
going on to St. Quentin, procured an apartment in a convent, with 



RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 51 

the determination of remaining there, till Sheridan should have 
the means of supporting her as his acknowledged wife. A letter 
which he wrote to his brother from this place, dated April 15, 
though it throws but little additional light on the narrative, is 
too interesting an illustration of it to be omitted here : 

" Dear Brother, 

" Most probably you will have thought me very inexcusable 
for not having writ to you. You will be surprised, too, to be 
told that, except your letter just after we arrived, we have never 
received one line from Bath. We suppose for certain that there 
are letters somewhere, in which case we shall have sent to every 
place almost but the right, whither, I hope, I have now sent 
also. You will soon see me in England. Everything on our 
side has at last succeeded. Miss L is now fixing in a con- 
vent, where she has been entered some time. This has been a 
much more difficult point than you could have imagined, and we 
have, I find, been extremely fortunate. She has been ill, but is 
now recovered ; this, too, has delayed me. We would have 
wrote, but have been kept in the most tormenting expectation, 
from day to day, of receiving your letters ; but as everything 
is now so happily settled here, I will delay no longer giving you 
that mformation, though probably I shall set out for England 
without knowing a syllable of what has happened with you. All 
is well, I hope ; and I hope, too, that though you may have been 
ignorant, for some time, of our proceedings, you never could 
have been uneasy lest anything should tempt me to depart, even 
in a thought, from the honor and consistency which engaged 

me at first. I wrote to M ^ above a week ago, which, 1 

think, was necessary and right. I hope he has acted the one 
proper part which was left him ; and, to speak from raj feelings^ 
I cannot but say that I shall be very happy to find no further 
disagreeable consequence pursuing him ; for, as Brutus says of 
Caesar, &c. — if I delay one moment longer, I lose the post. 

" I have writ now, too, to Mr. Adams, and should apologize 

* Mathews. 



52 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

to you for having writ to him first, and lost my time for you 

Love to my sisters, Miss L to all. 

" Ever, Charles, your affect. Brother, 

" R. B. Sheridan. 
" 1 need not tell you that we altered quite our route." 

The illness of Miss Linley, to which he alludes, and which 
had been occasioned by fatigue and agitation of mind, came on 
some days after her retirement to the convent ; but an Engii^ii 
physician. Dr. Dolman, of York, who happened to be resident 
at Lisle at the time, was called in to attend her ; and in order 
that she might be more directly under his care, he and Mrs. 
Dolman invited her to their house, where she was found by Mr. 
Linley, on his arrival in pursuit of her. After a few w^ords of 
private explanation from Sheridan, which had the effect of recon- 
ciling him to his truant daughter, Mr. Linley insisted upon her 
returning with him immediately to England, in order to fulRl 
some engagements which he had entered into on her account ; 
and a promise being given that, as soon as these engagements 
were accomplished, she should be allowed to resume her plan 
of retirement at Lisle, the whole party set off amicably together 
for England. 

On the first discovery of the elopement, the landlord of the 
house in w^hich the Sheridans resided had, from a feeling of pity 
for the situation of the young ladies, — now left without the pro- 
tection of either father or brother, — gone off, at break of day, to 
the retreat of Charles Sheridan, and informed him of the event 
which had just occurred. Poor Charles, wholly ignorant till 
then of his brother's attachment to Miss Linley, felt all that a 
man may be supposed to feel, who had but too much reason to 
think himself betrayed, as well as disappointed. He hastened 
to Bath, where he found a still more furious lov^r, Mr. Mathews, 
inquiring at the house every particular of the affair, and almost 
avowing, in the impotence of his rage, the unprincipled design 
which this summary step had frustrated. In the course of their 
QonversatioUj Charles Sheridan let fall some unguarded expres- 



RIGHT HOK. KICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 53 

sions of anger against his brother, which this gentleman, who 
seems to have been eminently qualified for a certain line of cha- 
racters indispensable in all romances, treasured up in his memo- 
ry, and, as it will appear, afterwards availed himself of them. For 
the four or five weeks during which the young couple were ab- 
sent, he never ceased to haunt the Sheridan family, with inquiries, 
rumors, and other disturbing visitations ; and, at length, urged on 
by the restlessness of revenge, inserted the following violent ad- 
vertisement in the Bath Chronicle : 

" Wednesday, April Sth, 1772. 

"Mr. Richard S******* having attempted, in a letter left be- 
hind him for that purpose, to account for his scandalous method 
of running away from this place, by insinuations derogating from 
my character, and that of a young lady, innocent as far as relates 
to 7ne, or my knowledge ; since which he has neither taken any 
notice of letters, or even informed his ow^n flimily of the place 
where he has hid himself; I can no longer think he deserves the 
treatment of a gentleman, and therefore shall trouble myself no 
further about him than, in this public method, to post him as a 
L^^^, and a treacherous S********. 

" And as I am convinced there have been manv malevolent in- 
cendiaries concerned in the propagation of this infamous lie, if 
any of them, unprotected by ay^, infirmities, or profession, will 
dare to acknowledge the part they have 'acted, and affirm to what 
they have said of me, they may depend on receiving the proper 
reward of their villany, in the most public manner. The world 
will be candid enough to judge properly (I make no doubt) of 
any private abuse on this subject for the future ; as nobody can 
defend himself from an accusation he is ignorant of 

"Thomas Mathews." 

On a remonstrance from Miss Sheridan upon this outrageous 
proceeding, he did not hesitate to assert that her brother Charles 
\^as privy to it; — a charge which the latter w^ith indignation re- 
pelled, and was only prevented by the sudden departure of Ma- 



54 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

thews to London from calling him to a more serious account for 
the falsehood. 

At this period the party from the Continent arrived ; and as a 
detail of the circumstances which immediately followed has been 
found in Mr. Sheridan's own hand-writing, — drawn up hastily, it 
appears, at the Parade Coffee-house, Bath, the evening before his 
second duel with Mr. Mathews,— it would be little better than 
profanation to communicate them in any other words. 

''It has ever been esteemed impertinent to appeal to the pub- 
lic in concerns entirely private ; but there now and then occurs 
a private incident which, by being explained, may be productive 
of puhlic advantage. This consideration, and the precedent of a 
public appeal in the same affair, are my only apologies for the 
following lines: — 

" Mr. T. Mathews thought himself essentially injured by Mr. 
R. Sheridan's having co-operated in the virtuous efforts of a 
young lady to escape the snares of vice and dissimulation. He 
wrote several most abusive threats to Mr. S., then in France. 
He labored, with a cruel industry, to vilify his character in Eng- 
land. He publicly posted him as a scoundrel and a liar. Mr. 
S. answered him from France (hurried and surprised), that he 
would never sleep in England till he had thanked him as he de- 
served. 

"Mr. S. arrived in London at 9 o'clock at night. At 10 he is 
informed, by Mr. S. Ewart, that Mr. M. is in town. Mr. S. had 
sat up at Canterbury, to keep his idle promise to Mr. M. — He 
resolved to call on him that night, as, in case he had not found 
him in town, he had called on Mr. Ewart to accompany him to 
Bath, being bound by Mr. Linley not to let anything pass be- 
tween him and Mr. M. till he had arrived thither. Mr. S. came 
to Mr. Cochlin's, in Crutched Friars, (where Mr. M. was lodged,) 
about half after twelve. The key of Mr. C.'s door was lost ; Mr. 
S. was denied admittance. By two o'clock he got in. Mr. M. 
had been previously down to the door, and told Mr. S. he should 
be admitted, and had retired to bed again. He dressed, com- 



RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRlNSLEY SHERIDAN. 55 

plained of the cold, endeavored to get heat mto him, called Mr. 
S. his dear friend^ and forced him to — sit down, 

" Mr. S. had been informed that Mr. M. had sworn his death ; 
— that Mr. M. had, in numberless companies, produced bills on 
France, whither he meant to retire on the completion of his re- 
venge. Mr. M. had warned Mr. Ewart to advise his friend net 
even to come in his way without a sword, as he could not answer 
for the consequence. 

" Mr. M. had left two letters for Mr. S., in which he declares he 
is to be met with at any hour, and begs Mr. S. will not ' de- 
prive himself of so much sleep, or stand on any ceremony.'' Mr. 
S. called on him at the hour mentioned. Mr. S. was admitted 
with the difficulty mentioned. Mr. S. declares that, on Mr. M.'s 
perceiving that he came to answer then to his challenge, he does 
not remember ever to have seen a man behave so perfectly das- 
tardly. Mr. M. detained Mr. S. till seven o'clock the next morn- 
ing. He (Mr. M.) said he never meant to quarrel with Mr. S. 
He convinced Mr. S. that his enmity ought to be directed solely 
against his brother and another gentleman at Bath. Mr. S. went 
toBath.^^*^'^*^"t 

On his arrival in Bath, (whither he travelled with Miss Linley 
and her father,) Sheridan lost not a moment in ascertaining the 
falsehood of the charge against his brother. While Charles, how- 
ever, indignantly denied the flagitious conduct imputed to him by 
Mathews, he expressed his opinion of the step which Sheridan 
and Miss Linley had taken, in terms of considerable warmth, 
which were overheard by some of the family. As soon as the 
young ladies had retired to bed, the two brothers, without any 
announcement of their intention, set off post together for London, 
Sheridan having previously wTitten the following letter to Mr. 
Wade, the Master of the Ceremonies. 

" Sir, 
" I ought to apologize to you for troubling you again on a sub- 
ject which should concern so few. 

t The remainder of this paper is omilied, as only briefly referring to circumstances 
which wiU be found more minutely detailed in another document. 



66 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE- OF THE 

" I iiiid Mr, Mathews's behavior to have been such that I can 
not be satisfied with his concession^ as a consequence of an expla- 
nation from me. I called on Mr. Mathews last Wednesday night 
at Mr. Cochlin's, without the smallest expectation of coming to 
any verbal explanation w^ith him. A proposal of a pacific meet- 
ing the next day was the consequence, which ended in those ad- 
vertisements and the letter to you. As for Mr. Mathews's honor 
or spi7'it in this whole aftliir, I shall only add that a few hours 
may possibly give some proof of the latter ; while, in my own 
justification, I aflirm that it was far from being my fault that this 
point now remains to be determined. 

" On discovering Mr. Mathews's benevolent interposition in my 
own family, I have count er-ordejed the advertisements that were 
agreed on, as T think even an explanation would now misbecome 
me ; an agreement to them was the effect more of mere charity 
than judgment. As I find it necessary to make all my senti- 
ments as public as possible, your declaring this will greatly oblige 
"Sat. 12 o'clock, " Your very humble Servant, 

May 2d, 1772. "R. B. Sheridan." 

" To William Wade, Esq^ 

On the following day (Sunday), when the young gentlemen did 
not appear, the alarm of their sisters was not a little increased, 
by hearing that high words had been exchanged the evening be- 
fore, and that it was feared a duel between the brothers would be 
the consequence. Though unable to credit this dreadful surmise, 
yet full of the various apprehensions which such mystery was 
calculated to inspire, they had instant recourse to Miss Linley, 
the fair Helen of all this strife, as the person most likely to be 
acquainted with their brother Richard's designs, and to relieve 
them from the suspense under which they labored. She, how- 
ever, was as ignorant of the transaction as themselves, and their 
mutual distress being heightened by sympathy, a scene of tears 
and fainting-fits ensued, of which no less remarkable a person 
than Doctor Priestley, who lodged in Mr. Linley's house at tho 
time, happened to be a witness. 



RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRIKSLEY SHERIDAN. 57 

On the arrival of the brothers in town, Richard Sheridan in- 
stantly called Mathews out. His second on the occasion was Mr. 
Ewart, and the paHiculnrs of the duel are thus stated by himself, 
in a letter which ne addressed to Captain Knight, the second of 
Mathews, soon after the subsequent duel in Bath. 

" Sir, 

" On the evening preceding my last meeting with Mr. Mathews, 
Mr. Barnett* produced a paper to me, written by Mr. Mathews, 
containing an account of our former meetings in London. As I 
had before frequently heard of Mr. Mathews's relation of that 
affair, without interesting myself much in contradicting it, I should 
certainly have treated this in the same manner, had it not been 
seemingly authenticated by ^Ir. Knight's name being subscribed 
to it. My asserting that the paper contains much misrepresen- 
tation, equivocation, and falsity, might make it appear strange that 
I should apply to you in this m.anner for information on the 
subject: but, as it likewise contradicts what I have been told 
were Mr. Knight's sentiments and assertions on that affair, 1 think 
I owe it to his credit, as well as my own justification, first, to be 
satisfied from himself whether he really subscribed and will sup- 
port the truth of the account shown by Mr. Mathews. Give me 
leave previously to relate what / have affirmed to have been a 
real state of our meeting in London, and which I am now ready 
to support on my honor, or my oath, as the best account I can 
give of Mr. Mathews's relation is, that it is almost directly op- 
posite to mine. 

" Mr. Ewart accompanied me to Hyde Park, about six in the 
evening, where we met you and Mr. Mathews, and we walked 
together to the ring. — Mr. Mathews refusing to make any other 
acknowledgment than he liad done, I observed that we were 
come to the ground : Mr. Mathews objected to the spot, and ap- 
pealed to you. — We proceeded to the back of a building on the 
other side of the ring, the ground was there perfectly level. I 
called on liim and drew my sword (he having previously declined 

* Th.e friend of llathews in tlie second duel. 
VOL. I, fl 



68 Memoirs of the life of th^ 

pistols). Mr. Ewart observed a sentinel on the other side of the 
building ; we advanced to another part of the park. I stopped 
again at a seemingly convenient place : Mr. Mathews objected to 
the observation of some people at a great distance, and proposed 
to retire to the Hercules' Pillars till the park should be clear : 
we did so. In a little time we returned. — I again drew my sword ; 
Mr. Mathews again objected to the observation of a person who 
seemed to watch us. Mr. Ewart observed that the chance was 
equal, and engaged that no one should stop him, should it be ne- 
cessary for him to retire to the gate, where we had a chaise and 
four, which was equally at his service. Mr. Mathews declared 
that he would not engage while any one was within sight, and 
proposed to defer it till next morning. I turned to you and 
said that 'this was trifling work,' that I could not admit of any 
delay, and engaged to remove the gentleman (who proved to be 
an officer, and who, on my going up to him, and assuring him that 
any interposition would be ill-timed, politely retired). Mr. 
Mathews, in the mean time, had returned towards the gate : Mr. 
Ewart and I called to vou. and followed. We returned to the Her- 
cules' Pillars, and went from thence, by agreement, to the Bedford 
Coffee House, where, the master being alarmed, you came and con- 
ducted us to Mr. Mathews at the Castle Tavern, Henrietta Street. 
Mr. Ewart took lights up in his hand, and almost immediately 
on our entering the room we engaged. I struck Mr. Mathews's 
point so much out of the line, that I stepped up and caught hold 
of his wrist, or the hilt of his sword, while the point of mine was 
at his breast. You ran in and caught hold of my arm, exclaim- 
ing, ''dont kill him.^ I struggled to disengage my arm, and said 
his sword was in my power. Mr. Mathews called out twice or 
thrice, ' / beg mij life^ — We were parted. You immediately 
said, ' ihere^ he has begged his life, and now there is an end of it / 
and, on Mr. Ewart saying that, when his sword was in my power, 
as I attempted no more you should not have interfered, you re- 
plied that you were wrong^ but that you had done it hastily, and 
to prevent mischief — or words to that effect. Mr. Mathews then 
hinted that I was rather obliged to your interposition for the ad- 



RIGHT HON. RlCiiAHD BRINSLEY SHEKIDAIS-. 69 

v^antage ; you declared that ' before you did so, both the swords 
were in Mr. Sheridan's power.' Mr. Mathew^s still seemed re- 
solved to give it another turn, and observed that he had nevey 
quitted his sword, — Provoked at this, I then sw^ore (with too much 
heat, perhaps) that he should either give up his sword and I would 
break it, or go to his guard again. He refused — but, on my per- 
sisting, either gave it into my hand, or flung it on the table, or the 
ground [which I will not absolutely aflirm). I broke it, and flung 
the hilt to the other end of the room. He exclaimed at this. I 
took a mourning sword from Mr. Ewart, and presenting him with 
mine, gave my honor that w^hat had passed should never be men- 
tioned by me, and he might now right himself again. He re- 
plied that he 'would never draw a sword against the man who had 
given him his life ;' — but, on his still exclaiming against the in- 
dignity of breaking his sword (which he had brought upon him- 
self), Mr. Ewart offered him the pistols, and some altercation pass- 
ed between them. Mr. Mathews said, that he could never show 
his face if it were known how his sword was broke — that such a 
thing had never been done — that it cancelled all obligations, d:c. etc. 
You seemed to think it was wrong, and we both proposed, that 
if he never misrepresented the aflair, it should not be mentioned 
by us. This was settled. I then asked Mr. Mathews, whether 
(as he had expressed himself sensible of, and shocked at the in- 
justice and indignity he had done me in his advertisement) it did 
not occur to him that he owed me another satisfaction ; and that, 
as it was now in his power to do it without discredit, I sup- 
posed he would not hesitate. This he absolutely refused, unless 
conditionally ; I insisted on it, and said I would not leave the 
room till it was settled. After much altercation, and with much 
ill-grace, he gave the apology, w^hich afterwards appeared. We 
parted, and I returned immediately to Bath. I, there, to Colonel 
Gould, Captain Wade, Mr. Creaser, and others, mentioned the af- 
fair to Mr. Mathews's credit — said that chance having given me 
the advantage, Mr. Mathews had consented to that apology, and 
mentioned nothing of the sword. Mr. Mathew^s came down, and 
ill two days 1 found the whole aflliir had been stated in a diflferent 



60 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

light, and insinuations given out to the same purpose as in the pa- 
per, which has occasioned this trouble. I had undoubted author- 
ity that these accounts proceeded from Mr. Mathews, and like- 
wise that Mr. Knight had never had any share in them. I then 
thought I no longer owed Mr. Mathews the compliment to con- 
ceal an}^ circumstance, and I related the affair to several gentle- 
men exactly as above. 

" Now, sir, as I have put down nothing in this account but upon 
the most assured recollection, and as Mr. Mathews's paper either 
directly or equivocally contradicts almost every article of it, and 
as your name is subscribed to that paper, I flatter myself that I 
have a right to expect your answer to the following questions : — 
First, 

" Is there any fitlsity or misrepresentation in what I have ad^ 
vanced above ] 

" With regard to Mr. Mathews's paper — did I, in the Park, 
seem in the smallest article inclined to enter into conversation 
with Mr. Mathews ? — He insinuates that I did. 

" Did jMr, Mathews not beg his life ? — He affirms he did not. 

" Did I break his sword without xvarning ? — He affirms I did it 
without warning, on his laying it on the table. 

" Did 1 not offer him mine ? — He omits it. 

" Did Mr. Mathews give me the apology, as a point of gene- 
rosity, on my desisting to demand it ? — He affirms he did. 

" I shall now give my reasons for doubting your having au- 
thenticated this paper. 

" 1. Because I think ^tfull of falsehood and misrepresentation, 
and Mr. Knight has the character of a man of truth and honor. 

" 2. AYhen you were at Bath, I was informed that you had 
never expressed any such sentiments. 

" 3. I have been told that, in Wales, Mr. Mathews never told 
his story in the presence of Mr. Knight, who had never there in- 
sinuated any thing to my disadvantage. 

" 4. The paper shown me by Mr. Barnett contains (if my 
memory does not deceive me) three separate sheets of writing 
paper. Mr. Knight's evidence is annexed to the last, which con. 



EIGHT HOK. RICHAKD BRIKSLEY SHERIDAN. 61 

tains chiefly a copy of our first proposed advertisements, which 
Mr. Mathews had, in Mr. Knight's presence, agreed should be 
destroyed as totally void; and which (in a letter to Colonel 
Gould, by whom I had msisted on it) he declared upon his honor 
he knew nothing about, nor should ever make the least use of. 

" These, sir, are my reasons for applying to yourself, in prefe- 
rence to any appeal to Mr. Ewart, my second on that occasion, 
which is what I would wish to avoid. As for Mr. Mathews's as- 
sertions, I shall never be concerned at them. I have ever avoided 
any verbal altercation with that gentleman, and he has now se- 
cured himself from any other. 

" I am your very humble servant, 

"R. B. Sheridan." 

It was not till Tuesday morning that the young ladies at Bath 
were relieved from their suspense by the return of the two bro- 
thers, who entered evidently much fatigued, not having been in 
bed since they left home, and produced the apology of Mr. Ma- 
thews, which was instantly sent to Crutwell for insertion. It was 
in the following terms: — 

" Being convinced that the expressions I made use of to Mr. 
Sheridan's disadvantage were the effects of passion and misrepre- 
sentation, I retract what I have said to that gentleman's disad- 
vantage, and particularly beg his pardon for my advertisement in 

the Bath Chronicle. 

"Thomas Mathews."* 

With the odor of this transaction fresh about him, Mr. Mathews 
retired to his estate in Wales, and, as he might have expected, 
found himself universally shunned. An apology may be, accord- 
ing to circumstances, either the noblest effort of manliness or the 
last resource of fear, and it w^as evident, from the reception which 

* This appeared in the Bath Chronicle of May Tlh. In another part of tlie same paper 
there is the following paragraph : " We can with authority contradict the account in tho 
London Evening Post of last night, of a duel between Mr. M — t— ws and Mr. S — r — n, as 
to the time and event of their meetmg, Mr. S. having been at his place on Saturday, and 
both these gentlemen being here at present." 



62 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

this gentlemai. experienced every where, that the former, at least 
was not the class to which his late retraction had been referred. 
In this crisis of his character, a Mr. Barnett, who had but lately 
come to reside in his neighborhood, observing with pain the mor- 
tifications to wliich he was exposed, and perhaps thhiking them, in 
some degree, unmerited, took upon him to urge earnestly the ne- 
cessity of a second meeting with Sheridan, as the only means of 
removing the stigma left by the first ; and, with a degree of Irish 
friendliness, not forgotten in the portrait of Sir Lucius OTrigger, 
offered himself to be the bearer of the challenge. The despera- 
tion of persons, in Mr. Mathews's circumstances, is in general 
much more formidable than the most acknowledged valor ; and 
we may easily believe that it was with no ordinary eagerness he 
accepted the proposal of his new ally, and proceeded with him, 
full of vengeance, to Bath. 

The elder Mr. Sheridan, who had but just returned from Ire- 
land, and had been with some little difficulty induced to forgive 
his son for the wild achievements he had been engaged in during 
his absence, was at this time in London, making arrangements 
for the departure of his favorite, Charles, who, through the mter- 
est of Mr. Wheatley, an old friend of the family, had been ap- 
pointed Secretary to the E'nbassy in Sweden. Miss Linley — 
wife and no wife, — obliged to conceal from the world what her 
heart would have been most proud to avow, was also absent from 
Bath, being engaged at the Oxford music-meeting. The letter 
containing the preliminaries of the challenge was delivered by 
Mr. Barnett, with rather unnecessary cruelty, into the hands of 
Miss Sheridan, under the pretext, however, that it was a note of 
invitation for her brother, and on the following morning, before it 
was quite daylight, the parties met at Kingsdown — Mr. Mathews, 
attended by his neighbor Mr. Barnett, and Sheridan by a gentle- 
man of the name of Paumier, nearly as young as himself, and 
but little qualified for a trust of such importance and delicacy. 

The account of the duel, which I shall here subjoin, was drawn 
up some months after, by the second of Mr. Mathews, and de- 
posited in the hands of Captain Wade, the master of the cer^ 



RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 63 

monies. Though somewhat partially colored, and (according to 
Mr. Sheridan's remarks upon it, which shall be noticed presently) 
incorrect in some particulars, it is, upon the whole, perhaps as 
accurate a statement as could be expected, and received, as ap- 
pears by the following letter from Mr. Brereton, (another of 
Mr. Sheridan's intimate friends,) all the sanction that Captain 
Paumier's concurrence in the truth of its most material facts 
could furnish. 

" Dear Sir, 
" In consequence of some reports spread to the disadvantage 
of Mr. Mathews, it seems he obtained from Mr. Barnett an im- 
partial relation of the last affair with Mr. Sheridan, directed to 
you. This account Mr. Paumier has seen, and I, at Mr. Ma- 
thews's desire, inquired from him if he thought it true and im- 
partial : he says it differs, m a few immaterial circumstances only, 
from his opinion, and has given me authority to declare this to 
you. 

" I am, dear Sir, 
" Your most humble and obedient servant, 

(Signed) " William Brereton. 

" Bath, Oct. 24, 1772." 

Copy of a Paper left by Mr. Barnett in the hands of Captain 
William Wade, Master of the Ceremonies at Bath. 

" On quitting our chaises at the top of Kingsdown, I entered 
into a conversation with. Captain Paumier, relative to some pre- 
liminaries I thought ought to be settled in an affair which was 
likely to end very seriously ; — particularly the method of using 
their pistols, which Mr. Mathews had repeatedly signified his de- 
sire to use prior to swords, from a conviction that Mr. Sheridan 
would run in on him, and an ungentlemanlike scuffle probably be 
the consequence. This, however, was refused by Mr. Sheridan, 
declaring he had no pistols : Captain Paumier replied he had a 
brace (which I know were loaded). — By my advice, Mr. Ma- 
thews's were not loaded^ as I imagined it was alw^ays customary 



64 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

to load on the field, which I mentioned to Captain Paumier at the 
White-Hart, before we went out, and desired he would draw his 
pistols. He replied, as they were already loaded, and they go- 
ing on a public road at that time of the morning, he might as 
well let them reniain so, till we got to the place appointed, when 
he would on his honor draw them, which I am convinced he would 
have done had there been time ; but Mr. Sheridan immediately 
drew his sword, and, in a vaunting manner, desired Mr. Mathews 
to draw (their ground was very uneven, and near the post-chaises). 
— Mr. Mathews drew ; Mr. Sheridan advanced on him at first ; 
Mr. Mathews in turn advanced fast on Mr. Sheridan ; upon 
which he retreated, till he very suddenly ran in upon Mr. Ma- 
thews, laying himself exceedingly open, and endeavoring to get 
hold of Mr. Mathews's sword ; Mr. Mathews received him on 
his point, and, I believe, disengaged his sword from Mr. Sheri- 
dan's body, and gave him another vfound ; which, I suppose, must 
have been either against one of his ribs, or his breast-bone, as his 
sword broke, which I i^nagme happened from the resistance it 
met with from one of those parts ; but whether it was broke by 
that, or on the closing, I cannot aver. 

-' Mr. Mathews, I think, on finding his sword broke, laid hold 
of Mr. Sheridan's sword-arm, and tripped up his heels : they 
both fell ; Mr. Mathews was uppermost, with the hilt of his 
sword in his hand, having about six or seven inches of the blade 
to it, with which I saw him give Mr. Sheridan, as I imagined, a 
skin-wound or two in the neck ; for it could be no more, — the re- 
maining part of the sword being broad and blunt; he also beat 
him in the face either with his fist or the hilt of his sword. Upon 
this I turned from them, and asked Captain Paumier if we should 
not take them up ; but I cannot say whether he heard me or not, 
as there was a good deal of noise ; however, he made no reply. 
I again turned to the combatants, who were much in the same 
situation : I found Mr. Sheridan's sword was bent, and he slip 
ped his hand up the small part of it, and gave Mr. Mathews a 
slight wound in the left part of his belly : I that instant turned 
again to Captain Paumier, and proposed again our taking them 



HIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 6S 

up. He in the same Tnoment called out, ' Oh ! he is killed, he is 
killed !' — I as quick as possible turned again, and found Mr. Ma- 
thews had recovered the point of his sword, that was before on 
the ground, with which he had wounded Mr. Sheridan in the 
belly : I saw him drawing the point out of the wound. By this 
time Mr. Sheridan's sword was broke, which he told us. — Captain 
Paumier called out to him, ' My dear Sheridan, beg your life, 
and I will be yours for ever.' I also desired him to ask his life : 
he replied, ' No, by God, I won't.' I then told Captain Paumier 
it would not do to wait for those punctilios (or words to that ef- 
fect), and desired he would assist me in taking them up. Mr. 
Mathews most readily acquiesced first, desiring me to see Mr. 
Sheridan was disarmed. I desired him to give me the tuck, 
which he readily did, as did Mr. Sheridan the broken part of 
his sword to Captain Paumier. Mr. Sheridan and Mr. Mathews 
both got up ; the former was helped into one of the chaises, and 
drove off for Bath, and Mr. Mathews made the best of his way 
for London. 

" The whole of this narrative I declare, on the word and honor 
of a gentleman, to be exactly true; and that Mr. Mathews discover- 
ed as much genuine, cool, and intrepid resolution as man could do. 

" I think I may be allowed to be an impartial relater of facts, 

as my motive for accompanying Mr. Mathews was no personal 

friendship, (not having any previous intimacy, or being barely 

acquainted with him,) but from a great desire of clearing up so 

ambiguous an affair, without prejudice to either party, — which a 

stranger was judged the most proper to do, — particularly as Mr. 

Mathews had been blamed before for takmg a relation with him 

on a similar occasion. 

(Signed) "William Barnett.* 

" October, 1772." 

The following account is given as an "Extract of a Letter from Bath," in the St. James's 
Clironlcle, July 4 : "Young Sheridan and Captain Mathews of this town, who lately had 
a rencontre in a tavern in London, upon account of the maid of Bath, Miss Linley, have 
had another this morning upon Kingsdown, about four miles hence Sheridan is much 
wounded, but whether mortally or not is yet uncertain. Both their swords breaking upon 
the first lunge, they threw each other down, and with the broken pieces hacked at each 
Dther, rolling upon the ground, the seconds standing by, quiet spectators. Mathew« is 



QQ MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THfi 

Tlie comments whi.h Mr. Sheridan thought it necessary to 
make upon this narrative have been found in an unfinished state 
among his papers ; and though they do not, as far as they go, dis- 
prove anything material in its statements, (except, perhaps, 
with respect to the nature of the wounds which he received,) yet, 
iSs containing some curious touches of character, and as a docu- 
ment which he himself thought worth preserving, it is here in- 
serted. 

" To William Barnett, Esq, 
" Sir, 
" It has always appeared to me so impertinent for individuals 
to appeal to the public on transactions merely private, that I own 
the most apparent necessity does not prevent my entering into 
such a dispute without an awkward consciousness of its impro- 
priety. Indeed, I am not without some apprehension, that I may 
have no right to plead your having led the way in my excuse ; 
as it appears not improbable that some ill-wisher to you, Sir, and 
the cause you have been engaged in, betrayed you first into this 
exact narrative^ and then exposed it to the public eye, under pre- 
tence of vindicating your friend. However, as it is the opinion 
of some of my friends, that I ought not to suffer these papers to 
pass wholly unnoticed, I shall make a few observations on them 
with that moderation which becomes one who is highly conscious 
of the impropriety of staking his single assertion against the ap- 
parent testimony of three. This, I say, would be an impropriety, 
as I am supposed to write to those who are not acquainted with 
the parties. I had some time ago a copy of these papers from 
Captain Wade, who informed me that they were lodged in his 
hands, to be made public only by judicial authority. I wrote to 

but slightly wounded, and is since gone off." The Bath Chronicle, on the day after the 
duel, (July 2d,) gives the particulars thus : " This morning, about three o'clock, a second 
duel was fought with swords, between Captain Mathews and Mr. R. Sheridan, on Kings- 
iown, near this city, in consequence of their former dispute respecting an amiable young 
lady, which Mr. M. considered as improperly adjusted ; Mr. S. having, since their first 
rencontre, declared his sentiments respecting Mr. M. in a manner that tlie former thought 
required satisfaction. !Mr. Sheridan received three or four wounds in his breast and sides, 
and now lies very ill. Mr. M. was only slightly wounded, and left this city soon after 
the affair was over." 



RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 67 

you, Sir, on the subject, to have from yourself an avowal that 
the account was yours ; but as I received no answer, I have rea- 
son to compliment you with the supposition that you are not the 
author of it. However, as the name William Barnett is sub- 
scribed to it, you must accept my apologies for making use of 
that as the ostensible signature cf the writer — Mr. Paumier like- 
wise (the gentleman w^ho went out with me on that occasion in 
the character of a second) having assented to everything material 
in it, I shall suppose the w^hole account likewise to be his ; and as 
there are some circumstances which could come from no one but 
Mr. Mathews, I shall (without meaning to take from its au- 
thority) suppose it to be Mr. Mathews's also. 

" As it is highly indifferent to me whether the account I am to 
observe on be considered as accurately true or not, and I believe 
it is of very little consequence to any one else, I shall make those 
observations just in the same manner as I conceive any indiffer- 
ent person of common sense, who should think it worth his while 
to peruse the matter with any degree of attention. In this light, 
the truth of the articles which are asserted under Mr. Barnett's 
name is w^hat I have no business to meddle with ; but if it should 
appear that this accurate narrative frequently contradicts itself as 
well as all probability, and that there are some positive facts 
against it, wb'ch do not depend upon any one's assertion, 1 must 
repeat that I shall either compliment Mr. Barnett's judgment, in 
supposing it not his, or his humanity in proving the narrative to 
partake of that confusion and uncertainty, which his well-wishers 
will plead to have possessed him in the transaction. On this ac- 
count, what I shall say on the subject need be no further address- 
ed to you ; and, indeed, it is idle, in my opinion, to address even 
the publisher of a newspaper on a point that can concern so 
few, and ought to have been forgotten by them. This you must 
take as my excuse for having neglected the matter so long. 

" The first point in Mr. Barnett's narrative that is of the least 
consequence to take notice of, is, w^here Mr. M. is represented as 
havmg repeatedly signified his desire to*use pistols prior to swords^ 



68 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

from a conviction that Mr. Sheridan would run in upon him, and 
an ungentlemanlike scuffle probably be the consequence. This is 
one of those articles which evidently must be given to Mr. Ma- 
thews : for, as Mr. B.'s part is simply to relate a matter of fact, 
of which he was an eye-witness, he is by no means to answer for 
Mr. Mathews's private convictions. As this insinuation bears an 
obscure allusion to a past transaction of Mr. M.'s, I doubt not 
but he will be surprised at my indifference in not taking the trou- 
ble even to explain it. However, I cannot forbear to observe 
here, that had I, at the period which this passage alludes to, known 
what was the theory which Mr. M. held of gentlemanly scuffle^ I 
might, possibly, have been so unhappy as to put it out of his 
power ever to have brought it into practice. 

" Mr. B. now charges me with having cut short a number of 
pretty preliminaries, concerning which he was treating with Cap- 
tain Paumier, by drawing my sword, and, in a vaunting manner, 
desiring Mr. M. to draw. Though I acknowledge (with deference 
to these gentlemen) the full right of interference which seconds 
have on such occasions, yet I may remind Mr. B. that he was ac- 
quainted with my determination with regard to pistols before we 
went on the Down, nor could I have expected it to have been pro- 
posed. ' Mr. M. drew ; Mr. S. advanced, &;c. :' — here let me re- 
mind Mr. B. of a circumstance, which I am convinced his memory 
will at once acknowledge." 

This paper ends here : but in a rougher draught of the same 
letter (for he appears to have studied and corrected it with no 
common care) the remarks are continued, in a hand not very 
legible, thus : 

" But Mr. B. here represents me as drawing my sword in a 
vaunting manner. This I take to be a reflection ; and can only 
say, that a person's demeanor is generally regulated by their idea 
of their antagonist, and, for what I know, I may now be writing 
in a vaunting style. Here let me remind Mr. B. of an omission, 
which, I am convinced, nothing but want of recollection could oc- 
casion, yet which is a material point in an exact account of such 



RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 69 

an affair, nor does it reflect in the least on Mr. M. Mr. M. could 
not possibly have drawn his s\Yord on my calling to him, as * 

*****^ * ****! 

" M. B.'s account proceeds, that I ' advanced first on Mr. M.,' 
&;c. &c. ; 'which, (says Mr. B.) I imagine, happened from the 
resistance it met with from one of those parts ; but whether it 
was broke by that, or on the closing, I cannot aver.' How strange 
i§ the confusion here ! — First, it certainly broke ; — whether it 
broke against rib or no, doubtful ; — then, indeed, whether it broke 
at all, uncertain. * * * * But of all times Mr. B. could not 
have chosen a worse than this for Mr. M.'s sword to break ; 
for the relating of the action unfortunately carries a contradiction 
with it ;- — since if, on closing, Mr. M. received me on his point, it 
is not possible for him to have made a lunge of such a nature as 
to break his sword against a rib-bone. But as the time chosen is 
unfortunate, so is the place on which it is said to have broke, — as 
Mr. B. might have been informed, by inquiring of the surgeons, 
that I had no wounds on my breast or rib with the point of a 
sword, they being the marks of the jagged and blunted part." 

He wus driven from the ground to the White-Hart ; where 
Ditcher and Sharpe, the most eminent surgeons of Bath, attended 
and dressed his w^ounds, — and, on the following day, at the re- 
quest of his sisters, he was carefully removed to his own home. 
The newspapers which contained the account of the affliir, and 
even stated that Sheridan's life was in danger, reached the Lin- 
leys at Oxford, during the performance, but were anxiously con 
cealed from Miss Linley by her father, who knew that the intel- 
ligence would totally disable her from appearing. Some persons 
who were witnesses of the performance that day, still talk of 
the touching effect which her beauty and singing produced upon 
all present — aware, as they were, that a heavy calamity had be- 
fallen her, of which she herself was perhaps the only one in the 
assembly ignorant. i 

In her way back to Bath, she was met at some miles from the 
town by a Mr. Panton, a clergyman, long intimate with the 

t II IS impossible to make any connecled sense of ihe passage that follow.f. 



70 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

family, who, taking her from her father's chaise into his own, em- 
ployed the rest of the journey in cautiously breaking to her the 
particulars of the alarming event that had occurred. Notwith- 
standing this precaution, her feelings were so taken by surprise, 
that in the distress of the moment, she let the secret of her heart 
escape, and passionately exclaimed, " My husband ! my hus- 
band !" — demanding to see him, and insisting upon her right as 
his wife to be near him, and watch over him day and night. Her 
entreaties, however, could not be complied wdth ; for the elder 
Mr. Sheridan, on his return from town, incensed and grieved at 
the catastrophe to which his son's imprudent passion had led, re- 
fused for some time even to see him, and strictlv forbade all in- 
tercourse between his daughters and the Linley family. But the 
appealing looks of a brother lying wounded and unhappy, had 
more power over their hearts than the commands of a father, and 
they, accordingly, contrived to communicate intelligence of the 
lovers to each other. 

In the following letter, addressed to him by Charles at this time, 
we can trace that difference between the dispositions of the bro- 
thers, which, with every one except their father, rendered Richard, 
in spite of all his faults, by far the most popular and beloved of 
the two. 

"Dear Dick, London, July 3c?, 1772. 

" It w^as with the deepest concern I received the late ac- 
counts of you, though it was somewhat softened by the assurance 
of your not being in the least danger. You cannot conceive the 
uneasiness it occasioned to my father. Both he and I were re- 
solved to believe the best, and to suppose you safe, but then w^e 
neither of us could approve of the cause in which you suffer. All 
your friends here condemned you. You risked every thing, where 
you had nothing to gain, to give your antagonist the thing he 
wished, a chance for recovering his reputation. Your courage 
was past dispute : — he wanted to get rid of the contemptible opin- 
ion he was held in, and you were good-natured enough to let him 
do it at your expense. It is not now a time to scold, but all 



BIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 71 

your friends were of opinion you could, with the greatest pro- 
priety, have refused to meet him. For my part, I shall suspend 
my judgment till better informed, only I cannot forgive your pre- 
ferring swords. 

" I am exceedingly unhappy at the situation I leave you in with 
respect to money matters, the more so as it is totally out of my 
power to be of any use to you. Ewart was greatly vexed at the 
manner of your drawing for the last 20^. — I own, I think with 
some reason. 

" As to old Ewart, what you were talking about is absolutely 
impossible ; he is already surprised at Mr. Linley's long delay, 
and, indeed, I think the latter much to blame in this respect. I 
did intend to give you some account of myself since my arrival 
here, but you cannot conceive how I have been hurried, — even 
much pressed for time at this present wiiting, I must therefore 
conclude, with wishing you speedily restored to health, and that 
if I could make your purse as whole as that will shortly be, I 
hope, it would make me exceedingly happy. 

" I am, dear Dick, yours sincerely, 

"C. F. Sheridan." 

Finding that the suspicion of their marriage, which Miss Lin- 
ley's unguarded exclamation had suggested, was gaining ground 
in the mind of both fathers, — who seemed equally determined to 
break the tie, if they could arrive at some positive proof of its 
existence, — Sheridan wrote frequently to his young wife, (who 
passed most of this anxious period with her relations at Wells,) 
cautioning her against being led into any acknowledgment, which 
might further the views of the elders against their happiness. 
Many methods were tried upon both sides, to ensnare them into a 
confession of this nature ; but they eluded every effort, and per- 
sisted in attributing the avowal which had escaped from Miss 
Linley, before Mr. Panton, and others, to the natural agitation 
and bewilderment into which her mind was thrown at the in- 
stant. 



72 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

As soon as Sheridan was sufficiently recovered of his wounds * 
his father, in order to detach him, as much as possible, from the 
dangerous recollections which continually presented themselves in 
Bath, sent him to pass some months at Waltham Abbey, in Es- 
sex, under the care of Mr. and Mrs. Parker of Farm Hill, his 
most particular friends. In this retirement, where he continued, 
with but few and short intervals of absence, from August or Sep- 
tember, 1772, till the spring of the following year, it is probable 
that, notwithstanding the ferment in which his heart was kept, he 
occasionally and desultorily occupied his hours in study. Among 
other proofs of industry, which I have found among his manuscripts, 
and which may possibly be referred to this period, is an abstract 
of the History of England — nearly filling a small quarto volume 
of more than a hundred pages, closely written. I have also found 
in his early hand-writing (for there was a considerable change in 
his writing afterwards) a collection of remarks on Sir William 
Temple's works, which may likewise have been among the fruits 
of his reading at Waltham Abbey. 

These remarks are confined chiefly to verbal criticism, and 
prove, in many instances, that he had not yet quite formed his 
taste to that idiomatic English, which was afterwards one of the 
great charms of his own dramatic style. For instance, he ob- 
jects to the following phrases : — " Then I fell to my task again." 
— " These things come^ with time, to be habitual." — " By -which 
these people come to be either scattered or destroyed." — " Which 
alone could pretend to contest it with them :" (upon which phrase 
he remarks, " It refers to nothing here :") and the following grace- 
ful idiom in some verses by Temple : — 

" Thy busy head can find no gentle rest 
For thinking on the events,'^ &c. &c. 

Some of his obervations, however, are just and tasteful. 
Upon the Essay " Of Popular Discontents," after remarking, that 

• The Bath Chronicle of the 9th of July has the following paragraph: *It is with 
gr<3at pleasure we inform our readers that Mr. Sheridan is declared by his surgeon to be 
put of danger." 



RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 73 

" Sir W. T. opens all his Essays with something as foreign to 
the purpose as possible," he has the following criticism : — " Page 
260, ' Represent misfortunes for faults, and mole-hills for moun- 
tains^^ — the metaphorical and literal expression too often coupled. 
P. 262, ' Upon these four wheels the chariot of state may in all 
appearance drive easy and safe, or at least not be too much 
shaken by the usual roughness of ways, unequal humors of men^ 
or any common accidents,' — another instance of the confusion of 
the metaphorical and literal expression." 

Among the passages he quotes from Temple's verses, as faulty, 
is the following : — 

" that we may see. 



Thou art indeed the empress of the sea.'''' 

It is curious enough that he himself was afterwards guilty of 
nearly as illicit a rhyme in his song " When 'tis night," and al- 
ways defended it : — 

" But when the fight^s begun, 
Each serving at his ^wti." 

Whatever grounds there may be for referring these labors jf 
Sheridan to the period of his retirement at Waltham Abbey, 
there are certainly but few other intervals in his life that could 
be selected as likely to have afforded him opportunities of read- 
ing. Even here, however, the fears and anxieties that beset him 
were too many and incessant to leave much leisure for the pur- 
suits of scholarship. However, a state of excitement may be 
favorable to the development of genius — which is often of the 
nature of those seas, that become more luminous the more thev 
are agitated, — for a student, a far different mood is necessary ; 
and in order to reflect with clearness the images that study pre- 
sents, the mind should have its surface level and unruffled. 

The situation, indeed, of Sheridan was at tliis time particu- 
larly perplexing. He had won the heart, and even hand, of the 
woman he loved, yet saw his hopes of possessing her farther off 
than ever. He had twice risked his life against an unworthy 

ypL. I. 4 



74 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

iintagonist, yet found the vindication of his honor still incomplete, 
from the misrepresentations of enemies, and the yet more mis- 
chievous testimony of friends. He felt within himself all the 
proud consciousness of genius, yet, thrown on the world with- 
out even a profession, looked in vain for a channel through which 
to direct its energies. Even the precarious hope, which his fa- 
ther's favor held out, had been purchased by an act of duplicity 
which his conscience could not approve ; for he had been mduced, 
with the view, perhaps, of blinding his father's vigilance, not only 
to promise that he would instantly give up a pursuit so unpleas- 
ing to him, but to take " an oath equivocal" that he never would 
marry Miss Linley. 

The pressure of these various anxieties upon so young and so 
ardent a mind, and their effects in alternately kindling and damp- 
ing its spirit, could only have been worthily described by him 
who felt them ; and there still exist some letters which he wrote 
during this time, to a gentleman well known as one of his earli- 
est and latest friends. I had hoped that such a picture, as these 
letters must exhibit, of his feelings at that most interesting period 
of his private life, would not have been lost to the present work. 
But scruples — over-delicate, perhaps, but respectable, as founded 
upon a systematic objection to the exposure of any papers, re- 
ceived under the seal of private friendship — forbid the publica- 
tion of these precious documents. The reader must, therefore, 
be satisfied with the few distant glimpses of their contents, which 
are afforded by the answers of his correspondent, found among 
the papers entrusted to me. From these it appears, that through 
alJ his letters the same strain of sadness and despondency pre- 
vailed, — sometimes breaking out into aspirings of ambition, and 
sometimes rising into a tone of cheerfulness, which but ill concealed 
the melancholy under it. It is evident also, and not a little remarka- 
ble, that in none of these overflowings of his confidence, had he 
as yet suffered the secret of his French marriage with Miss 
Linley to escape ; and that his friend accordingly knew but half 
the wretched peculiarities of his situation. Like most lovers, 
too, imagining that every one who approached his mistress must 



RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRLN-SLEY SHERIDAN. 75 

be equally intoxicated with her beauty as himself, he seems anx- 
iously to have cautioned his young correspondent (who occasional- 
ly saw her at Oxford and at Bath) against the danger that lay in 
such irresistible charms. From another letter, where the "writer 
refers to some message, which Sheridan had requested liim to 
deliver to Miss Linley, we learn, that she was at this time so 
strictly watched, as to be unable to achieve — what to an ingenious 
woman is seldom difficult — an answer to a letter which her lover 
had contrived to convey to her. 

It was at first the intention of the elder Mr. Sheridan to send 
his daughters, in the course of this autumn, under the care of 
their brother Richard, to France. But, fearing to entrust them 
to a guardian w^ho seemed himself so much in need of direction, 
he altered his plan, aifd, about the beginning of October, having 
formed an engagement for the ensuing winter with the manager 
of the Dublin theatre, gave up his house in Bath, and set out 
with his daughters for Ireland. At the same time Mr. Grenville, 
(afterwards Marquis of Buckingham,) who had passed a great 
part of this and the preceding summer at Bath, for the purpose 
of receiving instruction from Mr. Sheridan in elocution, went also 
to Dublin on a short visit, accompanied by Mr. Cleaver, and by 
his brother Mr. Thomas Grenville — between whom and Richard 
Sheridan an intimacy had at this period commenced, which con- 
tinued with .uninterrupted cordiality ever after. 

Some time previous to the departure of the elder Mr. Sheridan 
for Ireland, having taken before a magistrate the depositions of 
the postillions who were witnesses of the duel at Kingsdown, he 
had earnestly entreated of his son to join him in a prosecution 
against Mathews, whose conduct on the occasion he and others 
considered as by no means that of a fair and honorable antago- 
nist. It was in contemplation of a measure of this nature, that 
the account of the meeting already given was drawn up by Mr. 
Barnett, and deposited in the hands of Captain Wade. Though 
Sheridan refused to join in legal proceedings — from an unwil- 
lingness, perhaps, to keep Miss Linley 's name any longer afloat 
upon public conversation — yet this revival of the subject^ 



76 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

and the conflicting statements to which it gave rise, produced 
naturally in both parties a relapse of angry feelings, which was 
very near ending in a third (Tuel between them. The authen- 
ticity given by Captain Paumier's name to a narrative which 
Sheridan considered false and injurious, was for some time a 
source of considerable mortification to him ; and it must be 
owned, that the helpless irresolution of this gentleman during 
the duel, and his weak acquiescence in these misrepresentations 
afterwards, showed him as unfit to be trusted with the life as 
with the character of his friend. 

How nearly this new train of misunderstanding had led to 
another explosion, appears from one of the letters already re- 
ferred to, written in December, and directed to Sheridan at the 
Bedford Coffee-house, Co vent Garden, in which the writer ex- 
presses the most friendly and anxious alarm at the intelligence 
which he has just received, — implores of Sheridan to moderate 
his rage, and reminds him how often he had resolved never to 
have any concern with Mathews again. Some explanation, 
however, took place, as we collect from a letter dated a few 
days later ; and the world was thus spared not only such an 
instance of inveteracy, as three duels between the same two men 
would have exhibited, but, perhaps, the premature loss of a life 
to which we are indebted, for an example as noble in its excite- 
ments, and a lesson as us'^ful in its warnings, as ever genius and 
its errors have bequeathed to mankind. 

The following Lent, Miss Linley appeared in the oratorios at 
Co vent Garden ; and Sheridan, who, from the nearness of his 
retreat to London, (to use a phrase of his owai, repeated in one 
of his friend's letters), "trod upon the heels of perilous proba- 
bilities," though prevented by the vigilance of her father from a 
private interview, had frequent opportunities of seeing her in 
public. Among many other stratagems which he contrived, for 
the purpose of exchanging a few words with her, he more than 
once disguised himself as a hackney-coachman, and drove her 
home from the theatre. 

It appears, however, that a serious misunderst-anding at this 



RIGHT HON. KiCHARD BRINSLEY SHERlDAK-. 77 

time occurred between them, — originating probably in some of 
those paroxysms of jealousy, into which a lover like Sheridan 
must have been contmually thrown, by the numerous admirers 
and pursuers of all kinds, which the beauty and celebrity of his 
mistress attracted. Among various alliances invented for her 
by the public at this period, it was rumored that she w^as about 
to be married to Sir Thorn as^Clarges; and in the Bath Chronicle 
of April, 1773, a correspondence is given as authentic between 
her and " Lord Grosvenor," which, though pretty evidently a 
fabrication, yet proves the high opinion entertained of the purity 
of her character. The correspondence is thus introduced, in a 
letter to the editor: — "The following letters are confidently said 

to have passed between Lord G r and the celebrated 

English syren, Miss L y. I send them to you for publica- 
tion, not w^ith any view to increase the volume of literary scan- 
dal, which, I am sorry to say, at present needs no assistance, 
but with the most laudable intent of setting an example for our 
modern belles, by holding out the character of a young woman, 
who, notwithstanding the solicitations of her profession, and the 
flattering example of higher ranks, has added incorruptible virtue 
to a number of the most elegant qualifications." 

Whatever may have caused the misunderstanding between her 
and her lover, a reconcilement was with no great difficulty effect- 
ed, by the mediation of Sheridan's young friend, Mr. Ewart ; 
and, at length, after a series of stratagems and scenes, which con- 
vinced Mr. Linley that it was impossible much longer to keep 
them asunder, he consented to their union, and on the 13th of 
April, 1773, they were married by license* — Mr. Ewart being 
at the same time wedded to a young lady with whom he also had 
eloped clandestinely to France, but was now enabled, by the for- 
giveness of his father, to complete this double triumph of friend- 
ship and love. 

A curious instance of the indolence and procrastinating habits 
of Sheridan used to be related by Woodfall, as having occurred 

* Thus announced in the Gentleman's Magazine :— "Mr. Sheridan of the Teniple to the 
celebrated Miss Linley of Bath." 



78 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

about this time. A statement of his conduct in the duels having 
appeared in one of the Bath papers, so false and calumnious as 
to require an immediate answer, he called upon Woodfall to 
request that his paper might be the medium of it. But wish- 
ing, as he said, that the public should have the whole matter 
fairly before them, he thought it right that the offensive state- 
ment should first be inserted, and "in a day or two after be fol- 
lowed by his answer, which would thus come with more rele- 
vancy and effect. In compliance wdth his wish, Woodfall lost 
not a moment in transcribing the calumnious article into his 
columns — not doubting, of course, that the refutation of it would 
be furnished with still greater eagerness. Day after day, how- 
ever, elapsed, and, notwithstanding frequent applications on the 
one side, and promises on the other, not a line of the answer was 
ever sent by Sheridan, — who, having expended all his activity in 
assisting the circulation of the poison, had not industry enough 
lefl to supply the antidote. Throughout his whole life, indeed, 
he but too consistently acted upon the principles, w^hich the first' 
Lord Holland used playfully to impress upon his son : — " Never 
do to-day what you can possibly put off till to-morrow^, nor ever 
do, yourself, what you can get any one else to do for you." 



RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 79 



CHAPTER III. 

domestic circumstances. — fragments of essays found 
among his papers. — comedy of '* the rivals." — an- 
swer to *' taxation no tyranny." — farce of ^' st. 
Patrick's day." 

A FEW weeks previous to his marriage, Sheridan had been en- 
tered a student of the Middle Temple. It was not, however, to 
be expected that talents like his, so sure of a quick return of fame 
and emolument, would wait for the distant and dearly-earned 
emoluments which a life of labor in this profession promises. 
Nor, indeed, did his circumstances admit of any such patient spe- 
culation. A part of the sum which Mr. Long had settled upon 
Miss Linley, and occasional assistance from her father (his own 
Having withdrawn all countenance from him), were now the only 
resources, besides his own talents, left him. The celebrity of Mrs. 
Sheridan as a singer was, it is true, a ready source of wealth ; 
and offers of the most advantageous kind were pressed upon them, 
by managers of concerts both in town and country. But with a 
pride and delicacy, which received the tribute of Dr. Johnson's 
praise, he rejected at once all thoughts of allowing her to re-ap- 
pear in public ; and, instead of profiting by the display of his 
wife's talents, adopted the manlier resolution of seeking an inde- 
pendence by his own. An engagement had been made for her 
some months before by her father, to perform at the music-meet- 
ing that was to take place at Worcester this summer. But Sher- 
idan, who considered that his own claims upon her had superse- 
ded all others, would not suffer her to keep this engagement. 

How decided his mind was upon the subject will appear from 
the following letter, written by him to Mr. Linley about a month 



80 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

after his marriage, and containing some other interesting particu- 
lars, that show the temptations with which his pride had, at this 
time, to struggle : — 

" Dear Sir, JEast Burnham, May 12, 1773. 

" I purposely deferred writing to you till I should have settled 
all matters in London, and in some degree settled ourselves at 
our little home. Some unforeseen delays prevented my finishing 
wi^h Swale till Thursday last, when everything was concluded. 
I likewise settled with him for his own account, as he brought it 
to me, and, for di friendly bill, it is pretty decent. — Yours of the 
3d instant did not reach me till yesterday, by reason of its miss- 
ing us at Morden. As to the principal point it treats of, I had 
given my answer some days ago, to Mr. Isaac of Worcester. 
He had enclosed a letter to Storace for my wife, in which he 
dwells much on the nature of the agreement you had made for her 
eight months ago, and adds, that ' as this is no new application, 
but a request that you (Mrs. S.) will fulfil a positive engagement, 
the breach of which would prove of fatal consequence to our 
meeting, I hope Mr. Sheridan will think his honor in some degree 
concerned in fulfilling it.' — Mr. Storace, in order to enforce Mr. 
Isaac's argument, showed me his letter on the same subject to 
him, which begins with saying, ' We must have Mrs. Sheridan, 
somehow or other, if possible !' — the plain English of which is 
that, if her husband is not willing to let her perform, we will per- 
suade him that he acts dishonorably in preventing her from ful- 
filling a positive engagement. This I conceive to be the very worst 
mode of application that could have been taken ; as there really 
is not common sense in the idea that my honor can be concerned 
in my wife's fulfilling an engagement, which it is impossible she 
should ever have made. — ^Nor (as I wrote to Mr. Isaac) can you, 
who gave tlie promise, whatever it was, be in the least charged 
with the breach of it, as your daughter's marriage was an event 
which must always have been looked to by them as quite as na- 
tural a period to your right over her as her death. And, in my 
opinion, it would have been just as reasonable to have applied to 



tllGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 81 

you to fulfil your engagement in the latter case as in the former. 
As to the imprudence of declining this engagement, I do not think, 
even were we to suppose that my wife should ever on any occa- 
sion appear again in public, there would be the least at present. 
For instance, I have had a gentleman with me from Oxford 
(where they do not claim the least right as from an engagement), 
who has endeavored to place the idea of my complimenting the 
University with Betsey's performance in the strongest light of 
advantage to me. This he said, on my declining to let her perform 
on any agreement. He likewise informed me, that he had just 
left Lord North (the Chancellor), who, he assured me, would look 
upon it as the highest compliment, and had expressed himself so 
to him. Now, should it be a point of inclination or convenience 
to me to break my resolution with regard to Betsey's performing, 
there surely would be more sense in obliging Lord North (and 
probably from his own application) and the University, than Lord 
Coventry and Mr. Isaac. For, were she to sing at Worcester, 
there would not be the least compliment in her performing at 
Oxford. Indeed, they would have a right to claira it — particu- 
larly, as that is the mode of application they have chosen from 
Worcester. I have mentioned the Oxford matter merely as an 
argument, that I can have no kind of inducement to accept of the 
proposal from Worcester. And, as I have written fully on the 
subject to Mr. Isaac, I think there will be no occasion for you to 
give any further reasons to Lord Coventry — only that I am sorry 
I cannot accept of his proposal, civilities, &c. &c., and refer him 
for my motives to Mr. Isaac, as what I have said to you on the 
subject I mean for you only, and, if more remains to be argued 
on the subject in general, we must defer it till we meet, which 
you have given us reason to hope will not be long first. 

" As this is a letter of business chiefly, I shall say little of our 
situation and arrangement of affairs, but that I think we are as 
happy as those who wish us best could desire. There is but one 
thing that has the least weight upon me, though it is one I was 
prepared for. But time, while it strengthens the other blessings 
we possess, will, I hope, add that to the number. You will know 

VOL. I. 4* 



82 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF TMl 

that I speak with regard to my father. Betsey informs me you 
have written to him again — have you heard from him ? * * 

" 1 should hope to hear from you very soon, and I assure you, 
you shall now find me a very exact correspondent ; though I hope 
you will not give me leave to confirm my character in that re- 
spect before we meet. 

" As there is with this a letter for Polly and you, I shall only 
charge you with mine and Betsey's best love to her, mother, and 
Tom, &c. &;c., and believe me your sincere friend and affectionate 
son, 

" R. B. Sheridan." 

At East Burnham, from whence this letter is dated, they were 
now living in a small cottage, to which they had retired imme- 
diately on their marriage, and to which they often looked back 
with a sigh in after-times, w^hen they were more prosperous, but 
less happy. It w^as during a very short absence from this cot- 
tage, that the following lines w^ere written by him : — ■ 

'' Teach me, kind Hymen, teach, for thou 
Must be my only tutor now, — 
Teach me some innocent employ, 
That shall the hateful thought destroy, 
That I this whole long night must pass , 

In exile from my love's embrace. 
Alas, thou hast no wings, oh Time !* 
It was some thoughtless lover's rhyme, 
Who, writing in his Chloe's view. 
Paid her the compliment thi'ough you. 
For had he, if he truly lov'd. 
But once the pangs of absence prov'd. 
He'd cropt thy wings, and, in their stead, 
Have painted thee with heels of lead. 
But His the temper of the mind. 
Where we thy regulator find. 
Still o'er the gay and o'er the young 
With unfelt steps you flit along, — 

♦ It will be perceived thai the eiglu following lines arc the fouDdalion of the 8onff 
»^ What bard, oh Time, " in the Duenna. 



HIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 83 

As Virgil'S nymph o'er ripeii'd corn, 
With such ethereal haste was borne, 
That every stock, with upright head, 
Denied the pressure of her tread. 
But o'er the wretched, oh, how slow 
And heavy sweeps thy scythe of woe 1 
Oppress'd beneath each stroke they bow, 
Thy course engraven on their brow : 
A day of absence shall consume 
The glow of youth and manhood's bloom, 
And one short night of anxious fear 
Shall leave the wrinkles of a year. 
For me who, when Fm happy, owe 
No thanks to fortune that I'm so, 
Who long have learned to look at one 
Dear object, and at one alone. 
For all the joy, or all the sorrow. 
That gilds the day, or threats the morrow, 
I never felt thy footsteps light, 
But w^hen sweet love did aid thy flight, 
And, banish'd from his blest dominion, 
I cared not for thy borrowed pinion. 

True, she is mine, and, since she's mine, 
At trifles I should not repine 5 
But oh, the miser's real pleasure 
Js not in knowing he has treasure ; 
He must behold his golden store, 
And feel, and count his riches o'er. 
Thus I, of one dear gem possest, 
And in that treasure only blest. 
There every day would seek delight, 
And clasp the casket every night." 

Towards the winter they went to lodge for a short time with 
Storace, the intimate friend of Mr. Linley, and in the following 
year attained that first step of independence, a house to them- 
selves; Mr. Linley having kindly supplied the furniture of their 
new residence, which was in Orchard-Street, Portman-Square. 
During the summer of 1774, they passed some time at Mr. Can- 
ning's and Lord Coventry's ; but, so little did these visits inter- 
fere with the literary industry of Sheridan, that, as appears from 



84 M:EMoiiis OF the life of the 

the following letter, written to Mr. Linley in November, he had 
not only at that time finished his play of the Rivals, but was on 
the point of " sending a book to the press :" — 



« Deah Sir, " Nov. 11 th 1114.. 

" If I were to attempt to maive as many apologies as my long 
omission in wa^iting to you requires, I should have no room for 
any other subject. One excuse only I shall bring forward, w^hich 
is, that I have been exceedingly employed, and I believe very 
profitably. However, before I explain how, I must ease my 
mind on a subject that much more nearly concerns me than any 
point of business or profit. I must premise to you that Betsey 
is now very well, before I tell you abruptly that she has encoun- 
tered another disappointment, and consequent indisposition. 
* ^ * How^ever, she is now getting entirely over it, and 
she shall never take any journey of the kind again. I inform 
you of this now, that you may not be alarmed by any accounts 
from some other quarter, which might lead you to fear she was 
going to have such an illness as last year, of which I assure you, 
upon my honor, there is not the least apprehension. If I did 
not write now, Betsey w^ould write herself, and in a day she will 
make you quite easy on this head. 

" I have been very seriously at work on a book, which I am 
just now sending to the press, and which I think will do me 
some credit, if it leads to nothing else. However, the profitable 
affair is of another nature. There will be SLjComedy of mine in 
rehearsal at Covent-Garden within a few days. I did not set to 
work on it till within a few days of my setting out for Crome^ 
so you may think I have not, for these Jast six weeks, been very 
idle. I have done it at Mr. Harris's (the manager's) own re- 
quest ; it is now complete in hi» hands, and preparing for the 
stage. He, and some of his friends also who have heard it, 
assure me in the most flattering terms that there is not a doubt 
of its success. It will be very well played, and Harris tells me 
that the least shilling I shall get (if it succeeds) will be six hui>- 



RIGHT HON. KICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 85 

dred pounds. I shall make no secret of it towards the time of 
representation, that it may not lose any support my friends can 
give it. I had not written a line of it two months ago, except a 
scene or two, which I believe you have seen in an odd act of a 
little farce. 

'' Mr. Stanley was with me a day or two ago on the subject of 
the oratorios. I found Mr. Smith has declined, and is retiring to 
Bath. Mr. Stanley informed me that on his applying to the 
king for the coiftinuance of his favor, he was desired by his 
Majesty to make me an offer of Mr. Smith's situation and part- 
nership in them, and that he should continue his protection, &c. 
I declined the matter very civilly and very peremptorily. I 
should imagine that Mr. Stanley would apply to you ; — I started 
the subject to him, and said you had twenty Mrs. Sheridans more. 
However, he said verv little : — if he does, and vou wish to make 
an alteration in your system at once, I should think you may 
stand in Smith's place. I would not listen to him on any other 
terms, and I should think the King might be made to signify his 
pleasure for such an arrangen:ient. On this you will reflect, and 
if any way strikes you that I can move in it, I need not add how 
happy I shall be in its success. 

^ * ^ * ¥: « « 

" I hope you will let me have the pleasure to hear from you 
soon, as I shall think any delay unfair, — unless you can plead 
that you are writing an opera, and a folio on music besides. Ac- 
cept Betsey's love and duty. 

'' Your sincere and affectionate 

" R. B. Sheridan." 

What the book here alluded to was, I cannot with anv ac- 
curacy ascertain. Besides a few sketches of plays and poems, 
of which I shall give some account in a subsequent Chapter, there 
exist among his papers several fragments of Essays and Letters, 
all of which — including the unfinished plays and poems — must 
have been written by him in the interval between 1769, when 



86 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

he left Harrow, and the present year ; though at what precise 
dates during that period there are no means of judging. 

Among these there are a few political Letters, evidently de- 
signed for the newspapers ; — some of them but half copied out, 
and probably never sent. One of this description, which must 
have been written immediately on his leaving school, is a piece 
of irony against the Duke of Grafton, giving reasons why that 
nobleman should not lose his head, and, under the semblance of 
a defence, exaggerating all the popular charges against him. 

The first argument (he says) of the Duke's adversaries, " is 
founded on the regard which ought to be paid to justice, and on 
the good effects which, they affirm, such an example would have, 
in suppressing the ambition of any future minister. But if I can 

prove that his n:iight be made a much greater example of 

by being suffered to live, I think I may, without vanity, affirm 
that their whole argument will fall to the ground. By pursuing 

the methods which they propose, viz. chopping off his 's head, 

I allow the impression would be stronger at first ; but we should 

consider how soon that wears off. h] indeed, his 's crimes 

were of such a nature, as to entitle his head to a place on Tempk- 
Bar, I should allow some weight to their argument. But, in the 
present case, we should reflect how apt mankind are to relent 
after they have inflicted punishment ;- — so that, perhaps, the same 
men who would have detested the noble Lord, while alive and in 
prosperity, pointing him as a scarecrow to their children, miight, 
afler being witnesses to the miserable fate that had overtaken 
him, begin m their hearts to pity him ; and from the fickleness so 
common to human nature, perhaps, by way of compensation, ac- 
quit him of part of his crimes ; insinuate that he was dealt hardly 
with, and thus, by the remembrance of their compassion, on 
this occasion, be led to show more indulgence to any future 
offender in the same circumstances." There is a clearness of 
thought and style here very remarkable in so young a writer. 

In afiectinfT to defend the Duke a«:ainst the charge of fickleness 
and unpunctuality, he says, '' I think I could bring several in- 



RIGHT HOK KICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 87 

stances which should seem to promise the greatest steadiness and 
resolution. I have known him make the Council wait, on the 
business of the whole nation, when he has had an appointment to 
Newmarket. Surely, this is an instance of the greatest honor ; 
and, if we see him so punctual in private appointments, must we 
not conclude that he is infinitely more so in greater matters ? 

Nay, when W s'^ came over, is it not notorious that the late 

Lord Mayor went to His Grace on that evening, proposing a 
scheme which, by securing this fire-brand, might have put an end 
to all the troubles he has caused ? But His Grace did not see 
him ; — no, he was a man of too much honor ; — he had promised 
that evening to attend Nancy Parsons to Ranelagh, and he would 
not disappoint her, but made three thousand people witnesses of 
his punctuality." 

There is another Letter, which happens to be dated (1770), ad- 
dressed to " Novus," — some writer in Woodfall's Public Adver- 
tiser, — and appearing to be one of a series to the same corres- 
pondent. From the few political allusions introduced in this let- 
ter, (which is occupied chiefly in an attack upon the literary style 
of '' Novus,") we can collect that the object of Sheridan was to 
defend the new ministry of Lord North, who had, in the begin- 
ning of that year, succeeded the Duke of Grafton. Junius was 
just then in the height of his power and reputation ; and as, in 
English literature, one great voice always produces a multitude 
of echoes, it was thought at that time indispensable to every let- 
ter-writer in a newspaper, to be a close copyist of the style of 
Junius : of course, our young political tyro followed this " mould 
of form" as well as the rest. Thus, in addressing his correspon- 
dent : — " That gloomy seriousness in your style, — that seeming 
consciousness of superiority, together with the consideration of 
the infinite pains it must have cost you to have been so elabor- 
ately wrong, — will not suffer me to attribute such numerous 
errors to any thing but real ignorance, joined with most consum 
mate vanity." The following is a specimen of his acuteness in 

* Wilkes. 



88 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

criticising the absurd style of his adversary : — " You leave it ra. 
ther dubious whether you were most pleased with the glorious 
opposition to Charles I. or the dangerous designs of that monarch, 
which you emphatically call ' the arbitrary projects of a Stuart's 
nature.' What do you mean by the projects of a uishli's nature? 
A man's natural disposition may urge him to the commission of 
some actions ; — Nature may instigate and encourage, but I be- 
lieve you are the first that ever made her a projector." 

It is amusing to observe, that, while he thus criticises the style 
and language of his correspondent, his own spelling, in every 
second Ime, convicts him of deficiency in at least one common 
branch of literary acquirement : — we find thing always spelt 
think ; — whether^ where^ and which^ turned into wether^ were^ and 
wich ; — and double nis and ss almost invariably reduced to 
" single blessedness." This sign of a neglected education re- 
mained with him to a very late period, and, in his hasty writing, 
or scribbling, would occasionally recur to the last. 

From these Essays for the newspapers it may be seen how early 
was the bias of his mind towards politics. It was, indeed, the 
rival of literature in his affections during all the early part of his 
life, and, at length, — whether luckily for himself or not it is diffi- 
cult to say, — gained the mastery. 

There are also among his manuscripts some commencements of 
Periodical Papers, under various names, " The Detector," " The 
Dramatic Censor," &c. ; — none of them, apparently, carried be- 
yond the middle of the first number. But one of the most cu- 
rious of these youthful productions is a Letter to the Queen, re- 
commending the establishment of an Institution, for the instruc- 
tion and maintenance of young females in the better classes of 
life, who, from either the loss of their parents, or from poverty, are 
without the means of being brought up suitably to their station. 
He refers to the asylum founded by Madame de Maintenon, at 
St. Cyr, as a model, and proposes that the establishment should 
be placed under the patronage of Her Majesty, and entitled " The 
Royal Sanctuary." The reader, however, has to arrive at the 



RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 89 

practical part of the. plan, through long and flowery windings of 
panegyric, on the beauty, genius, and virtue of women, and their 
transcendent superiority, in every respect, over men. 

The following sentence will give some idea of the sort of elo- 
quence with which he prefaces this grave proposal to Her Ma- 
jesty : — " The dispute about the proper sphere of women is idle. 
That men should have attempted to draw a line for their orbit, 
shows that God meant them for comets, and above our jurisdic- 
tion. With them the enthusiasm of poetry and the idolatry of 
love is the simple voice of nature." There are, indeed, many pas- 
sages of this boyish composition, a good deal resembling in their 
style those ambitious apostrophes with which he afterwards orna- 
mented his speeches on the trial of Hastings. 

He next proceeds to remark to Her Majesty, that in those 
countries where " man is scarce better than a brute, he shows his 
degeneracy by his treatment of women," and again falls into met- 
aphor, not very clearly made out : — " The influence that women 
have over us is as the medium through which the finer Arts act 
upon us. The incense of our love and respect for them creates 
the atmosphere of our souls, which corrects and meliorates the 
beams of knowledge." 

The following is in a better style : — " However, in savage 
countries, where the pride of man has not fixed the first dictates 
of ignorance into law, we see the real effects of nature. The 
wild Huron shall, to the object of his love, become gentle as his 
weary rein-deer ; — he shall present to her the spoil of his bow on 
his knee ; — he shall watch without reward the cave where she 
sleeps ; — he shall rob the birds for feathers for her hair, and dive 
for pearls for her neck ; — her look shall be his law, and her beau- 
ties his worship !" He then endeavors to prove that, as it is the 
destiny of man to be ruled by woman, he ought, for his own sake, 
to render her as fit for that task as possible : — " How can we be 
better employed than in perfecting that which governs us ? The 
brighter they are, the more we shall be illumined. Were the 
minds of all women cultivated by inspiration, men would become 
wise of course. They are a sort of pentagraphs with which na- 



90 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

ture writes on the heart of man ; — what she delineates on the ori 
ginal map will appear on the copy." 

In showing how much less women are able to struggle against 
adversity than men, he says, — " As for us, we are born in a state 
of warHire with poverty and distress. The sea of adversity is our 
natural element, and he that will not buffet with the billows de- 
serves to sink. But you, oh you, by nature formed of gentler 
kind, can you endure the biting storm ? shall you be turned to 
the nipping blast, and not a door be open to give you shelter f 

After describing, with evident seriousness, the nature of the 
institution of Madame de Maintenon, at St. Cyr, he adds the fol- 
lowing strange romantic allusion : " Had such a charity as I have 
been speaking of existed here, the mild Paithenia and my poor 
Laura would not have fallen into untimely graves." 

The practical details of his plan, in which it is equally evident 
that he means to be serious, exhibit the same flightiness of 
language and notions. The King, he supposes, would have no 
objection to " grant Hampton-Court, or some other palace, for the 
purpose ;" and " as it is (he continues, still addressing the Queen) 
to be immediately under your majesty's patronage, so should 
your majesty be the first member of it. Let the constitution of 
it be like that of a university, Your Majesty, Chancellor ; some 
of the first ladies in the kingdom sub-chancellors ; w^hose care it 
shall be to provide instructors of real merit. The classes are to 
be distinguished by age — none by degree. For, as their qualifica- 
tion shall be gentility, they are all on a level. The instructors 
shall be women, except for the languages. Latin and Greek 
should not be learned ; — the frown of pedantry destroys the 
blush of humility. The practical part of the sciences, as of as- 
tronomy, &c., should be taught. In history they would find that 
there are other passions in man than love. As for novels, there 
are some I would strongly recommend; but romances infi- 
nitely more. The one is a representation of the effects of the 
passions as they should be, though extravagant ; the other, as they 
are. The latter is falsely called nature, and is a picture of de- 
praved and corrupted society ; the other is the glow of nature. I 



RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 91 

vvould therefore exclude all novels that show human nature de- 
praved : — however well executed, the design will disgust." 

He concludes by enumerating the various good effects which 
the examples of female virtue, sent forth from such an institution, 
would produce upon the manners and morals of the other sex ; 
and in describing, among other kinds of coxcombs, the cold, courtly 
man of the world, uses the following strong figure: "They are 
so clipped, and rubbed, and polished, that God's image and in- 
scription is worn from them, and when He calls in his coin. He 
will no longer know them for his own." 

There is still another Essay, or rather a small fragment of an 
Essay, on the letters of Lord Chesterfield, which, I am inclined to 
think, may have formed a part of the rough copy of the book, 
announced by him to Mr. Linley as ready in the November of 
this year. Lord Chesterfield's Letters appeared for the first time 
in 1774, and the sensation they produced was exactly such as 
would tempt a writer in quest of popular subjects to avail him- 
self of it. As the few pages which I have found, and which con- 
tain merely scattered hints of thoughts, are numbered as high as 
232, it is possible that the preceding part of the work may have 
been sufficiently complete to go into the printer's hands, and that 
there, — like so many more of his '' unshelled brood," — it died 
without ever taking wing. A few of these memorandums will, I 
have no doubt, be acceptable to the reader. 

^' Lord C.'S whole system in no one article calculated to make a great 
man. — A noble youth should be ignorant of the -things he wishes him to 
know ; — such a one as he wants would be too soon a man. 

^* Emulation is a dangerous passion to encourage, in some points, in 
young men ; it is so linked with envy : if you reproach your son for not 
surpassing his school-fellows, he will hate those who are before him. Emu- 
lation not to be encouraged even in virtue. True virtue will, like the Athe- 
nian, rejoice in being surpassed ; a friendly emulation cannot exist in two 
minds ; one must hate the perfections in which he is eclipsed by the other ; 
— thus, from hating the quality in his competitor, he loses the respect for 
it in himself: — a young man by himself better educated than two. — A Ro- 
man's emulation was not to excel his countrymen, but to make his country 
excel : this is the true, the other selfish.— Epaminondas, who reflected on 



92 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

the pleasure his success would give his father, most glorious ; — an emula- 
tion for that purpose, true. 

" The selfish vanity of the father appears in all these letters — his sending 
the copy of a letter for his sister. — His object was the praise of his own 
mode of education. — How much more noble the affection of Morni inOssian ; 
' Oh, that the name of Morni,' &c. &c.* 

'' His frequent directions for constant employment entirely ill founded : 
— a wise man is formed more by the action of his own thoughts than by 
continually feeding it. ' Hurry,' he says, ' from play to study ; never be 
doing nothing.' — I say, ' Frequently be unemployed ; sit and think.' There 
are on every subject but a few leading and fixed ideas ; their tracks may be 
traced by your own genius as well as by reading : — a man of deep thought, 
who shall have accustomed himself to support or attack all he has read, 
will soon find nothing new : thought is exercise, and the mind, like the 
body, must not be wearied.'' 

These last two sentences contain the secret of Sheridan's con- 
fidence in his own powers. His subsequent success bore him out 
in the opinions he thus early expressed, and might even have per- 
suaded him that it was in consequence, not in spite, of his want 
of cultivation that he succeeded. 

On the 17th of January, 1775, the comedy of The Rivals was 
brought out at Covent-Garden, and the following was the cast of 

the characters on the first night : — 



Sir Anthony Absolute 


. Mr. Shuter, 


Captain Absolute 


. Mr. Woodward. 


Falkland . . . . 


. Mr. Lewis. 


Acres . . . . 


. Mr. Quick. 


Sir Lucius 'Trigger 


. Mr. Lee. 


Fag .... . 


. Mr. Lee Lewes. 


David 


, Mr. DuHstal. 


Coachman . . . , 


. Mr. Fearon. 


Mrs. Malaprop 


. Airs. Green. 


Lydia Languish 


. Miss Barsanti. 


Julia .... 


. Mrs. Bulkley. 


Lucy .... 


. Mrs. Lessingha. 



* " oil, that the name of Morni were forgot among the people ; that the heroes would 
only say, 'Behold the father of Gaul !' " Sheridan applied this, more than thirty years 
after, in talking of his own son, on the hustings of Westminster, and said that, m like 
manner, he would ask no greater distinction than for men to point at him and say, 
'' There goes the father of Tom Sheridan." 



RIGHT HOK. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 93 

This comedy, as is well known, failed on its first representa- 
tion, — chiefly from the bad acting of Mr. Lee in Sir Lucius 
O'Trigger. Another actor, however, Mr. Clinch, was substituted 
in his place, and the play being lightened of this and some other 
incumbrances, rose at once into that high region of public favor, 
where it has continued to float so buoyantly and gracefully ever 
since. 

The following extracts from letters written at that time by 
Miss Linley (afterwards Mrs. Tickell) to her sister, Mrs. Sher- 
idan, though containing nothing remarkable, yet, as warm with 
the feelings of a moment so interesting in Sheridan's literary 
life, will be read, perhaps, with some degree of pleasure. The 
slightest outline of a celebrated place, taken on the spot, has 
often a charm beyond the most elaborate picture finished at a 
distance. 

"My dearest Eliza, Bath, 

" We are all in the greatest anxiety about Sheridan's play, — 
though I do not think there is the least doubt of its succeeding. 
I was told last night that it was his own story, and therefore call- 
ed " The Rivals ;" but I do not give any credit to this intelli- 
gence. * * * 

"I am told he will get at least 700Z. for his play." 

Bath^ January^ 1775. 
" It is impossible to tell you what pleasure we felt at the re- 
ceipt of Sheridan's last letter, which confirmed what we had seen 
in the newspapers of the success of his play. The knowing ones 
were very much disappointed, as they had so very bad an opinion 
of its success. After the first night we were indeed all very 
fearful that the audience would go very much prejudiced against 
it. But now, there can be no doubt of its success, as it has cer- 
tainly got through more difficulties than any comedy which has 
not met its doom the first night. I know you have been very 
busy in writing for Sheridan, — I don't mean copying^ but compos- 
ing ; — it's true, indeed ;— syou must not contradict me when I say 
you wrote the much admired epilogue to the Rivals. How I long 



94 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

to read it ! What makes it more certain is, that my father guess- 
ed it was yours the first time he saw it praised in the paper." 

This statement respecting the epilogue would, if true, deprive 
Sheridan of one of the fairest leaves of his poetic crown. It ap- 
pears, however, to be but a conjecture hazarded at the moment, 
and proves only the high idea entertained of Mrs. Sheridan's 
talents by her own family. The cast of the play at Bath, and its 
success there and elsewhere, are thus mentioned in these letters 
of Miss Linley : 

" Bath, February 18, 1775. 
" What shall I say of The Rivals ! — a compliment must na- 
turally be expected ; but really it goes so far beyond any tk'ng I 
can say in its praise, that I am afraid my modesty must keep me 
silent. When you and I meet I shall be better able to explain 
myself, and tell you how much I am delighted with it. We >^x- 
pect to have it here very soon : — it is now in rehearsal, "i )u 
pretty well know the merits of our principal performers : — I] 
show you how it is cast. 

Sir Anthony .... Mr. Edwin. 

Captain Absolute . . . Mr. Didier. 

Falkland Mr. Dimond. 

(A new actor of great merit, and a sweet figure.) 

Sir Lucius .... Mr. Jackson. 

Acres Mr. Keasherry. 

Fag Mr. Brunsdon. 

Mrs. Malaprop . . . Mrs. Wheeler, 

MissLydia .... Miss Wheeler. 

(Literally, a very pretty romantic girl, of seventeen.) 

Julia Mrs. Didier 

Lucy Mrs. Brett. 

There, Madam, do not you think we shall do your Rivals some 
justice ? I'm con\ inced it won't be done better any where out of 
London. I don't think Mrs. Mattocks can do Julia very well" 



HIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAiST. 95 

" Bath, March 9, 1775. 
*' You will know by what you see enclosed in this frank my 
reason for not answering your letter sooner w^as, that I waited 
the success of Sheridan's play in Bath ; for, let me tell you, I look 
upon our theatrical tribunal, though not in quantity^ in quality 
as good as yours, and I do not believe there was a critic in the 
whole city that w^as not there. But, in my life, I never saw any 
thing go off with such uncommon applause. I must first of all 
inform you that there w^as a very full house : — the play was per- 
formed inimitably well ; nor did I hear, for the honor of our 
Bath actors, one single prompt the whole night ; but I suppose 
the poor creatures never acted w^ith such shouts of applause in 
their lives, so that they were incited by that to do their best. 
They lost many of Malaprop's good sayings by the applause : in 
short, I never saw or heard any thing like it ; — before the actors 
spoke, they began their clapping. There was a new scene of the 
N. Parade, painted by Mr. Davis, and a most delightful one it 
is, I assure you. Every body says, — Bowers in particular, — that 
yours in town is not so good. Most of the dresses were entirely 
new, and very handsome. On the whole, I thmk Sheridan is 
vastly obliged to poor dear Keasberry for getting it up so well. 
We only wanted a good Julia to have made it quite complete. 
You must know that it w^as entirely out of Mrs. Didier's style 
of playing : but I never saw better acting than Keasberry's, — so 
all the critics agreed." 

" Bath, August 22d, 1775. 
" Tell Sheridan his play has been acted at Southampton : — 
above a hundred people were turned away the first night. They 
say there never was any thing so universally liked. They have 
very good success at Bristol, and have played The Rivals several 
times : — Miss Barsanti, Lydia, and Mrs. Canning, Julia." 

To enter into a regular analysis of this lively play, the best 
comment on which is to be found in the many smiling faces that 
are lighted up around wherever it appears, is a task of criticism 
that will hardly be thought necessary. With much less wit, it 



96 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

exhibits perhaps more humor than The School for Scandal, and 
the dialogue, though hj no means so pointed or sparkling, is, in 
this respect, more natural, as coming nearer the current coin of 
ordinary conversation ; whereas, the circulating medium of The 
School for Scandal is diamonds. The characters of The Rivals, 
on the contrary, are not such as occur very commonly in the 
world ; and, instead of producing striking effects with natural and 
obvious materials, which is the great art and difficulty of a 
painter of human life, he has here overcharged most of his per- 
sons w^ith whims and absurdities, for which the circumstances 
they are engaged in afford but a very disproportionate vent. Ac- 
cordingly, for our insight into their characters, we are indebted 
rather to their confessions than their actions. Lydia Languish, 
in proclaiming the extravagance of her own romantic notions, 
prepares us for events much more ludicrous and eccentric, than 
those in which the plot allows her to be concerned ; and the 
young lady herself is scarcely more disappointed than we are, at 
the tameness w^ith which her amour concludes. Among the va- 
rious ingredients supposed to be mixed up in the composition of 
Sir Lucius O'Trigger, his love of fighting is the only one whose 
flavor is very strongly brought out ; and the w^ay ward, captious 
jealousy of Falkland, though so highly colored in his own repre- 
sentation of it, is productive of no incident answerable to such 
an announcement : — the imposture which he practises upon Julia 
being perhaps weakened in its effect, by our recollection of the 
same device in the Nut-brown Maid and Peregrine Pickle. 

The character of Sir Anthony Absolute is, perhaps, the best 
sustained and most natural of any, and the scenes between him 
and Captain Absolute are richly, genuinely dramatic. His sur. 
prise at the apathy with which his son receives the glowing pic- 
ture which he drawls of the charms of his destined bride, and the* 
effect of the question, " And which is to be mine, Sir, — the niece 
or the aunt '?" are in the truest style of humor. Mrs. Malaprop's 
mistakes, in what she herself calls " orthodoxy," have been often 
objected to as improbable from a woman in her rank of life ; but, 
though some of them, it must be owned, are extravagant and far- 



BtGHT itON. iliCHARt) BRIKSLET SHERIDAN. ^? 

cical, they are almost all amusing, — and the luckiness of her si- 
mile, " as headstrong as an allegory on the banks of the Nile," 
will be acknowledged as long as there are writers to be run away 
with, by the wilfulness of this truly " headstrong" species of com- 
position. * 

Of the faults of Sheridan both in his witty and serious styles 
— the occasional effort of the one, and the too frequent false 
finery of the other — some examples may be cited from the dia- 
logue of this play. Among the former kind is the following 
elaborate conceit : — 

'' Falk, Has Lydia changed her mind ? I should have thought her duty 
and inclination would now have pointed to the same object. 

'' Ahs. Aj, just as the eyes of a person who squints : when her love-eye 
was fixed on me, t'other —her eye of duty — was finely obliqued : but when 
duty bade her point that the same way, off turned t'other on a swivel, and 
secured its retreat with a frown." 

This, -though ingenious, is far too labored — and of that false 
taste by which sometimes, in his graver style, he was seduced 
into the display of second-rate ornament, the following speeches 
of Julia afford specimens : — 

*' Then on the bosom of your wedded Julia, you may lull your keen re- 
gret to slumbering ; while virtuous love, with a cherub's hand, shall smooth 
the brow of upbraiding thought, and pluck the thorn from compunction." 

Again : — *' When hearts deserving happiness would unite their fortunes, 
virtue would crown them with an unfading garland of modest hurtless 
flowers : but ill-judging passion wil^ force the gaudier rose into the wreath, 
whose thorn offends them when its leaves are dropt." 

But, notwithstanding such blemishes, — and it is easy for the 
microscopic eye of criticism to discover gaps and inequalities in 
the finest edge of genius, — this play, from the liveliness of its 
plot, the variety and whimsicality of its characters, and the ex- 
quisite humor of its dialogue, is one of the most amusing in the 
whole range of the drama; and even without the aid of its more 
splendid successor, The School for Scandal, would have placed 
Sheridan in the first rank of comic writers. 

VOL. L 5 



98 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

A copy of The Rivals has fallen into my hands, which once 
belonged to Tiekell, the friend and brother-in-law of Sheridan, 
and on the margin of which I find written by him in many places 
his opinion of 'particular parts of the dialogue.* He has also 
prefixed to it, as coming from Sheridan, the following humorous 
dedication, which, I take for granted, has never before met the 
light, and which the reader will perceive, by the allusions in it to 
1 he two Whig ministries, could not have been written before the 
vear 1784 : — 

"Dedication to Idleness. 

"My Dear Friend, 
" If it were necessary to make any apology for this freedom, I 
know you would think it a suflacient one, that I shall find it easier 
to dedicate my play to you than to any other person. There is 
likewise a propriety in prefixing your name to a work begun en- 
tirely at your suggestion, and finished under your auspices ; and 
I should think myself wanting in gratitude to you, if I did not 
take an early opportunity of acknowledging the obligations which 
I owe you. There was a time — though it is so long ago that 
I now scarcely remember it, and cannot mention it without com- 
punction — but there was a time, when the importunity of parents, 
and the example of a few injudicious young men of my acquaint- 
ance, had almost prevailed on me to thwart my genius, and pros- 
titute my abilities by an application to serious pursuits. And if 
you had not opened my eyes to the absurdity and profligacy of 
such a perversion of the best gifts of nature, I am by no means 
clear that I might not have been a w^ealthy merchant or an emi- 
nent lawyer at this very moment. Nor was it only on my first 
setting out in life that I availed myself of a connection w^ith you, 

* Tliose opinions are generally expressed in Iwo or three words, and are, for the mosl 
part, judicious. Upon Mrs. Malaprop's quotation from Shakspeare, "Hesperian curls," 
&c, he writes, " overdone — fitter for farce than comecjy." Acres's classification of oaths, 
"This we call the oath referential,^^ &c. he pronounces to be " very good, but above the 
speaker's capacity." Of Julia's speech, " Oh woman, how true should be your judgment, 
when your resolution is so weak !" he remarks, " On the contrary, it seems to be of little 
consequence whether any person's judgment be weak o' not, who wants resolution to act 
according to it." . 



TtlGHT HON. mCHARD BrINSLEY SHERIDAN. 99 

though perhaps I never reaped such signal advantages from it as 
at that critical period. I have frequently since stood in need of 
your admonitions, and have always found you ready to assist me 
— though you were frequently brought by your zeal for me into 
new and awkward situations, and such as you were at first, natu- 
rally enough, unwilling to appear in. Amongst innumerable other 
Instances, I cannot omit two, where vou afforded me considerable 
and unexpected relief, and in fact converted employments, usu- 
ally attended by dry and disgusting business, into scenes of per- 
petual merriment and recreation. I allude, as you will easily 
imagine, to those cheerful hours which I spent in the Secretary 
of State's office and the Treasury, during all which time you 
were my inseparable companion, and showed me such a prefe- 
rence over the rest of my colleagues, as excited at once their 
envy and admiration. Indeed, it was very natural for them to 
repine at your having taught me a way of doing business, which 
it was impossible for them to follow — it was both original and 
inimitable. 

"If I were to say here all that I think of your excellencies, I 
might be suspeQted of flattery ; but I beg leave to refer you for 
the test of my sincerity to the constant tenor of my life and 
actions ; and shall conclude with a sentiment of which no one can 
dispute the truth, nor mistake the application, — that those per^ 
sons usually deserve most of their friends who expect least of 
them. 

" I am, &c. &;c. &c., 

" R. B. Sheridan." 

The celebrity which Sheridan had acquired, as the chivalrous 
lover of Miss Linley, was of course considerably increased by 
the success of The Rivals ; and, gifted as he and his beautiful 
wife were with all that forms the magnetism of society, — the 
power to attract, and the disposition to be attracted, — their life. 
as may easily be supposed, was one of gaiety both at home and 
aoroad. Though little able to cope with the entertainments of 
their wealthy acquaintance, her music and the good company 



100 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THiil 

which his talents drew around him, were an ample repayment for 
the more solid hospitalities w^hich they received. Among the 
families visited by them was that of Mr. Coote (Purden), at 
whose musical parties Mrs. Sheridan frequently sung, accompa- 
nied occasionally by the two little daughters^ of Mr. Coote, who 
were the originals of the children introduced into Sir Joshua 
Reynolds's portrait of Mrs. Sheridan as St. Cecilia. It was here 
that the Duchess of Devonshire first met Sheridan ; and, as I 
have been told, long hesitated as to the propriety of inviting to 
her house two persons of such equivocal rank in society, as he 
and his w^ife were at that time considered. Her Grace was re- 
minded of these scruples some years after, when "the player's 
son" had become the admiration of the proudest and fairest ; and 
when a house, provided for the Duchess herself at Bath, was left 
two months unoccupied, in consequence of the social attractions of 
Sheridan, which prevented a party then assembled at Chatsworth 
from separating. These are triumphs which, for the sake of all 
humbly born heirs of genius, deserve to be commemorated. 

In gratitude, it is said, to Clinch, the actor, for the seasonable 
reinforcement which he had brought to The Rivals, Mr. Sheridan 
produced this year a farce called "St. Patrick's Day, or the 
Scheming Lieutenant," w^hich w^as acted on the 2d of May, and 
had considerable success. 

Though we must not look for the usual point of Sheridan in 
this piece, where the hits of pleasantry are performed with the 
broad end or mace of his wit, there is yet a quick circulation of 
humor through the dialogue, — and laughter, the great end of 
farce, is abundantly achieved by it. The moralizing of Doctor 
Rosy, and the dispute between the justice's wife and her daughter, 
as to the respective merits of militia- men and regulars, are highly 
comic : — 

* The charm of her singings, as well as her fondness for children, are interestingly de- 
scribed in a letter to my friend Mr. Rog-ers, from one of the most tasteful writers of the 
present day : — "Hers was truly ' a voice as of the cherub choir,'^and she was always 
ready to sing without any pressing. She sung here a great deal, and to my infinite delight ; 
but what had a particular charm was, that she used to take my daughter, then a child, on 
her lap, and sing a number of childish songs with such a playfulness of manner, and 
iuch a sweetness of look and voice, as was quite enchanting." 



RIGHT HON, RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 101 

" Psha, you know, Mamma, I hate militia ofiQcers ; a set of dunghill cocks 
with spurs on — heroes scratch'd off a church door. No, give me the bold 
upright youth, who makes love to-day, and has his head shot off to-morrow. 
Dear ! to think how the sweet fellows sleep on the ground, and fight in silk 
stockings and lace ruffles. 

" Mother. Oh barbarous ! to want a husband that may wed you to-day 
and be sent the Lord knows where before night ; then in a twelve-month, 
perhaps, to have him come like a Colossus, with one leg at New York and 
the other at Chelsea Hospital.^' 

Sometimes, too, there occurs a phrase or sentence, which might 
be sworn to, as from the pen of Sheridan, any where. Thus, in 
<he very opening : — 

" 1st Soldier. I say you are wrong ; we should all speak together, each 
or himself, and all at once, that we may be heard the better. 
'• 2d Soldier. Right, Jack, we'll argue in platoons. "^^ 

Notwithstanding the great success of his first attempts in the 
drama, we find politics this year renewing its claims upon his at- 
tention, and tempting him to enter into the lists with no less an 
antagonist than Dr. Johnson. That eminent man had just pub- 
lished his pamphlet on the American question, entitled " Taxation 
no Tyranny ;" — a work whose pompous sarcasms on the Con- 
gress of Philadelphia, when compared with what has happened 
since, dwindle into puerilities, and show what straws upon the 
great tide of events are even the mightiest intellects of this world. 
Some notes and fragments, found among the papers of Mr. Sher- 
idan, prove that he had it in contemplation to answer this pam- 
phlet ; and, however inferior he might have been in style to his 
practised adversary, he would at least have had the advantage of 
a good cause, and of those durable materials of truth and jus- 
tice, which outlive the mere workmanship, however splendid, of 
talent. Such arguments as the following, which Johnson did not 
scruple to use, are, by the haughtiness of their tone and thought, 
only fit for the lips of autocrats : — 

" When they apply to our compassion, by telling us that they 
are to be carried from their own country to be tried for certain 
offences, we are not so ready to pity them, as to advise them not 
to offend. While they are innocent, they are safe, 



102 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

" If they are condemned unheard, it is because there is no need 
of a trial. The crime is manifest and notorious," &c. &c. 

It appears from the fragments of the projected answer, that 
Johnson's pension was one of the points upon which Mr. Sher 
idan intended to assail him. The prospect of being able to 
neutralize the effects of his zeal, by exposing the nature of the 
chief incentive from which it sprung, was so tempting, perhaps, 
as to overrule any feelings of delicacy, that might otherwise have 
suggested the illiberality of such an attack. The following are a 
few of the stray hints for this part of his subject : — 

"It is hard when a learned man thinks himself obliged to com- 
mence politician. — Sucn pamphlets will be as trifling and insin- 
cere as the venal quit-rent of a birth-day ode.'* 

" Dr. J.'s other works, his learning and infirmities, fully en- 
titled him to such a mark of distinction. — There was no call on 
him to become politician. — the easy quit-rent of refined pane- 
gyric,* and a few grateful rhymes or flowery dedications to the 
intermediate benefactor -^^ ^ * -^ 

" The man of letters is rarely drawn from obscurity by the 
inquisitive eye of a sovereign : — it is enough for Royalty to gild 
the laurelled brow, not explore the garret or the cellar. — In this 
case, the return will generally be ungrateful — the patron is most 
possibly disgraced or in opposition — if he (the author) follows the 
dictates of gratitude, he must speak his patron's language, but he 
may lose his pension — but to be a standing supporter of minis- 
try, is probably to take advantage of that competence against liis 
benefactor. — When it happens that there is great experience and 
political knowledge, this is more excusable ; but it is truly unfor- 
tunate where the fame of far different abilities adds weight to 
the attempts of rashness * ^ "* * " 

He then adds this very striking remark : " Men seldom think 
deeply on subjects on which they have no choice of opmion : — 

* On another scrap of paper I j&nd ''the miserable quit-rent of an annual pamplilet." 
It was his custom in composition (as will be seen by many other instances) thus to try the 
same tnought in a variety of forms and combinations, in order to see in which it would 
yield iHe greatest produce of wit. 



RIGHT HOJSr. KICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 103 

they are fearful of encountering obstacles to their faith (as in re- 
ligion), and so are content with the surface." ^ 

Dr. Johnson says, in one part of his pamphlet, — " As all are 
born the subjects of some state or other, we may be said to have 
been all born consenting to some system of government.*' On this 
Sheridan remarks ; — " This is the most slavish doctrine that ever 
was inculcated. If by our birth we give a tacit bond for our ac- 
quiescence m that form of government under which we were born, 
there never would have been an alteration of the first modes of 
government — no Revolution in England." 

Upon the argument derived from the right of conquesc he ob- 
serves — '^ This is the worst doctrine that can be with respect to 
America. — If America is ours by conquest, it is the conquerors 
who settled there that are to claim these powers." 

He expresses strong indignation at the " arrogance" with which 
such a man as Montesquieu is described as " the fanciful Montes- 
quieu," by " an eleemosynary politician, w^ho writes on the sub- 
ject merely because he has been rewarded for writing otherwise 
all his lifetime." 

In answer to the argument against the claims of the Amer- 
icans, founded on the small proportion of the population that is 
really represented even in England, he has the following desul- 
tory memorandums : — " In fact, every man in England is repre- 
sented — every man can influence people, so as to get a vote, and 
even if in an election votes are divided, each candidate is sup- 
posed equally worthy — as in lots — fight Ajax or Agamemnon.* 
— This an American cannot do in any way whatever. 

"The votes in England are perpetually shifting : — were it an 
object, few could be excluded. — Wherever there is any one am- 
bitious of assisting the empire, he need not put himself to much 
inconvenience. — If the Doctor indulged his studies in Cricklade 
or Old Sarum, he might vote : — the dressing meat, the simplest 
proof' of existence, begets a title. — His pamphlet shows that he 
thinks he can influence some one : not an anonymous writer in 

* He means to compare an election of this sort to the casting of lots between the Gre 
cian t hiefs in the 7th book of the Iliad. 



104 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

the paper but contributes his mite to the general tenor of opin 
ion. — At the eve o^ an election, his Patriot^ was meant to influ 
ence more than the single voice of a rustic. — Even the mob, in 
shouting, give votes where there is not corruption." 

It is not to be regretted that this pamphlet was left unfinished. 
Men of a high order of genius, such as Johnson and Sheridan, 
should UQver enter into warfare with each other, but, like the^ods 
in Homer, leave the strife to inferior spirits. The publication of 
this pamphlet would most probably have precluded its author 
from the distinction and pleasure which he afler wards enjoyed in 
the society and conversation of the eloquent moralist, who, in the 
following year, proposed him as a member of the Literary Club, 
and always spoke of his character and genius with praise. Nor 
was Sheridan wanting on his part with corresponding tributes ; 
for, in a prologue which he ^vrote about this time to the play of 
Sir Thomas Overbury, he thus alludes to Johnson's Life of its 
unfortunate author : — 

" So pleads the tale, that gives to future times 
The son's misfortunes, and the parent's crimes ; 
There shall his fame, if owa'd to-night, survive ; 
Fix'd by the hani that bids our language live." 

*The name of a short pampLlet, published by Dr. Johnson, or. the dissolution of Par- 
liament in 1774. 



KIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 105 



CHAPTER lY. 

THE DUENN'A.- -PURCHASE OF DRURY LANE THEATRE.- 
THE TRIP TO SCARBOROUGH. — POETICAL CORRESPON- 
DENCE WITH MRS. SHERIDAN. 

Mr. Sheridan had now got into a current of dramatic fancy, 
of whose prosperous flow he continued to avail himself actively. 
The summer recess was employed in writing the Duenna ; and 
his father-in-law, Mr. Linley, assisted in selecting and composing 
the music for it. As every thing connected with the progress of 
a work, which is destined to be long the delight of English ears, 
must naturally have a charm for English readers, I feel happy at 
being enabled to give, from letters written at the time by Mr. 
Sheridan himself to Mr. Linley, some details relating to their 
joint adaptation of the music, which, judging from my own feel- 
ings, I cannot doubt will be interesting to others. 

Mr. Linley was at this time at Bath, and the following letter 
to him is dated in October, 1775, about a month or five weeks 
before the opera was brought out : — 

" Dear Sir, 

" We received your songs to-day, with which we are exceed- 
ingly pleased. I shall profit by your proposed alterations ; but 
I'd have you to know that we are much too chaste in London to 
admit such strains as your Bath spring inspires. We dare not 
propose a peep beyond the ankle on any account ; for the critics 
in the pit at a new play are much greater prudes than the ladies 
in the boxes. Betsey intended to have troubled you with some 
music for correction, and I v/ith some stanzas, but an interview 
with Harris to-day has put me from the thoughts of it, and bent; 

VOL. I. 5^ 



106 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

me upon a much more important petition. You may easily sup 
pose it is nothing else than what I said I would not ask in my last. 
But, in short, unless you can give us three days in town, I fear 
our opera will stand a chance to be ruined. Harris is extrava- 
gantly sanguine of its success as to plot and dialogue, w^hich is to 
be rehearsed next Wednesday at the theatre. They will exert 
themselves to the utmost in the scenery, &c., but I never saw 
anv one so disconcerted as he was at the idea of there beinsi: no 
one to put them in the right way as to music. They have no one 
there whom he has any opinion of — as to Fisher (one of the man- 
agers), he don't choose he should meddle with it. He entreated 
me in the most pressing terms to write instantly to you, and 
wanted, if he thought it could be any weight, to write himself. 
Is it impossible to contrive this 1 couldn't you leave Tom^ to su- 
perintend the concert for a few days 1 If you can manage it, you 
will really do me the greatest service in the world. As to the 
state of the music, I want but three more airs, but there are some 
glees and quintets in the last act, that will be inevitably ruined, 
if we have no one to set the performers at least in the right way. 
Harris has set his heart so much on my succeeding in this appli- 
cation, that he still flatters himself we may have a rehearsal of 
the music in Orchard Street to-morrow se'nnight. Every hour's 
delay is a material injury both to the opera and the theatre, so 
that if you can come and relieve us from this perplexity, the re- 
turn of the post must only forerun your arrival ; or (what will 
make us much happier) might it not bring you ^ I shall say no- 
thing at present about the lady ' with, the soft look and manner,' 
because I am full of more than hopes of seeing you. For the 

same reason I shall delay to speak about G ;f only this much 

I will say, that I am more than ever positive I could make good 
my part of the matter ; but that I still- remain an infidel as to 
G.'s retiring, or parting with his share, though I confess he seems 
to come closer to the point in naming his price. 

" Your ever sincere and affectionate, 

" R. B. Sheridan." 

* Mrs. Sheridan's eldest brother • f Garrjcl?. 



RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 107 

On the opposite leaf of this letter is ^Yritten, in Mrs. S.'s hand- 
writing, — " Dearest Father, I shall ave no spirits or hopes of 
the opera, unless we see you. 

"Eliza Ann Sheridan." 

In answer to these pressing demands, Mr. Linley, as appears 
by the following letter, signified his intention of being in town as 
soon as the music should be' put in rehearsal. In the instructions 
here given by the poet to the musician, we ma.y percieve that he 
somewhat apprehended, even in the tasteful hands of Mr. Linley, 
that predominance of harmony over melody, and of noise over 
both, which is so fatal to poetry and song, in their perilous 
alliance with an orchestra. Indeed, those elephants of old, that 
used to tread down the ranks they were brought to assist, were 
but a type of the havoc that is sometim.es made both of melody 
and meaning by the overlaying aid of accompaniments. 

" Dear Sir, 

" Mr. Harris wishes so much for us to get you to town, that I 
could not at first convince him that your proposal of not coming 
till the music was in rehearsal, was certainly the best, as you 
could stay but so short a time. The truth is, that what you men- 
tior of my getting a master to teach the performers is the very 
pcint where the matter sticks, there being no such person as a 
master among them. Harris is sensible there ought to be such 
8 person ; however, at present, every body sings there according 
to their own ideas, or what chance instruction they can come at. 
We are, however, to follow your plan in the matter ; bat can at 
no rate relinquish the hopes of seeing \'ou in eight or ten days 
from the date of this ; when the music (by the specimen of ex- 
pedition you have given me) will be advanced as far as you 
mention. The parts are all writ out and doubled, &c. as we go 
on, as I have assistance from the theatre with me. 

" My intention' was, to have closed the first act with a song, 
but I find it is not thought so well. Hence I trust you with one 
of the inclosed papers ; and, at the same time, you must excuse 
my impertinence in adding an idea of the cast I would wish the 



108 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

music to have ; as I think I have heard you say you never heard 
Leoni,* and I cannot briiifly explain to you the character and sit- 
uation of the persons on the stage with him. The first (a dia- 
logue between Quick and Mrs. Mattocksf), I would wish to be a 
pert, sprightly air ; for, though some of the words mayn't seem 
suited to it, I should mention that they are neither of them in 
earnest in what they say. Leoni takes it up seriously, and I 
want him to show himself advantageously in the six lines begin- 
ning ' Gentle maid.' I should tell you, that he sings nothing well 
but in a plaintive or pastoral style ; and his voice is such as ap- 
pears to me always to be hurt by much accompaniment. I have 
observed, too, that he never gets so much applause as when he 
makes a cadence. Therefore my idea is, that he should make a 
flourish at ' Shall I grieve thee V and return to ' Gentle maid,' 
and so sing that part of the tune again. J After that, the two last 
lines, sung by the three, with the persons only varied, may get 
them off with as much spirit as possible. The second act ends 
with a slow glee, therefore I should think the two last lines in 
question had better be brisk, especially as Quick and Mrs. Mat- 
tocks are concerned in it- 

" The other is a song of Wilson's in the third act. I have 
written it to your tune, which you put some words to, beginning, 
' Prithee, prithee, pretty man !' I think it will do vastly well 
for the words : Don Jerome sings them when he is in particular 
spirits ; therefore the tune is not too light, though it might seem 
so by the last stanza — but he does not mean to be grave there, 
and I like particularly the returning to ' O the days w^hen I was 
young 1' We have mislaid the notes, but Tom remembers it. 
If you don't like it for words, will you give us one ? but it must 
go back to ' O the days,' and be funny. I have not done trou- 
bling you yet, but must wait till Monday." 

A subsequent letter contains further particulars of their pro 
gress. 

* Leoni pdayed Don Carlos. f Isaac iind Donna Louisa. 

% It will be perceived, by a reference to the music of the opera, that Mr. Linley follow 
ed these iastractions implicitly and successfully. 



illGHT HOK. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAIT. l09 

"Dear Sir, 

" Sunday evening next is fixed for our first musical rehearsal, 
and I was in great hopes we might have completed the score. 
The songs you have sent up of ' Banna's Banks,' and ' Deil take 
the wars,' I had made words for before they arrived, which an- 
swer excessively well ; and this was my reason for wishing for 
the next in the same manner, as it saved so much time. They 
are to sing ' Wind, gentle evergreen,' just as you sing it (only 
with other words), and I wanted only such support from the in- 
struments, or such joining in, as you should think would help to 
set off and assist the effort. I inclose the words I had made for 
' Wind, gentle evergreen,' which will be sung, as a catch, by 
Mrs. Mattocks, Dubellamy,* and Leoni. I don't mind the 
words not fitting the notes so well as the original ones. 'How 
merrily we live,' and ' Let's drink and let's sing,' are to be sung 
by a company o^ friars over their wine.f The words will be 
parodied, and the chief effect I expect from them must arise from 
their being Jcnown ; for the joke will be much less for these jolly 
fathers to sing any thing new, than to give what the audience are 
used to annex the idea of jollity to. For the other things Bet- 
sey mentioned, I only wish to have them with such accompani- 
ment as you would put to their present words, and I shall have 
got words to my liking for them by the time they reach me. 

" My immediate wish at present is to give the performers their 
parts in the music (which they expect on Sunday night), and 
for any assistance the orchestra can give to help the effect of 
the glees, &ic.j that may be judged of and added at a rehearsal, 
or, as you say, on inquiring how they have been done ; though 
I don't think it follows that what Dr. Arne's method is must be 
the best. If it were possible for Saturday and Sunday's post to 
bring us what we asked for in our last letters, and what I now 
enclose, we should still go through it on Sunday, and the per- 
formers should have their parts complete by Monday night. 

* Don Antonio. 

f For these was afterwards substituted ilr. Linley's lively glee, " This bottle's the sun 
of our table.'' 



110 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

We have had our rehearsal of the speaking part, and are to have 
another on Saturday. I want Dr. Harrington's catch, but, as the 
sense must be the same, I am at a loss how to put other words^ 
Can't the under part (' A smoky house, &c.') be sung by one 
person and the other two change ? The situation is — Quick and 
Dabellamy, two lovers, carrying away Father Paul (Reinold) 
in great raptures, to marry them : — the Friar has before warned 
them of the ills of a married life, and they break out into this. 
The catch is particularly calculated for a stage effect ; but I don't 
like to take another person's words, and I don't see how I can 
put others, keeping the same idea (' of seven squalling brats, 
&;c.') in which the whole affair lies. However, I shall be glad of 
the notes, with Reynold's part, if it is possible, as I mentioned.* 
" I have literally and really not had time to write the words 
of any thing more first and then send them to you, and this 
obliges me to use this apparently awkward way. * * 

" My father was astonishingly well received on Saturday night 
in Cato : I think it will not be many days before we are recon- 
ciled. 

" The inclosed are the words for ' Wind, gentle evergreen ;' 
a passionate song for Mattocks,f and another for Miss Brown,J 
which solicit to be clothed with melody by you, and are all I 
want. Mattocks's I could wish to be a broken, passionate affair, 
and the first two lines may be recitative, or what you please, un- 
common. Miss Brown sings hers in a joyful mood : we want 
her to show in it as much execution as she is capable of, which 
is pretty well ; and, for variety, we want Mr. Simpson's hautboy 
to cut a figure, with replying passages, &c., in the way of Fish- 

* This idea was afterwards relinquished. 

f The words of this song, in composing whicli the directions here given were exactly 
followed, are to be found in scarce any of the editions of the Duenna. They are as fol 
lows : — 

Sharp is the woe that wounds the jealous mind, 
When treachery two fond hearts would rend : 
But oh ! how keener far the pang to find 
That traitor in our bosom friend. 

I '* Adieu, Ihoa dreary pile." 



RIGHT HON. RICHAHD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN". Ill 

er's ' M^ ami, il hel idol m'lo,^ to abet which I have lugged in 
' Echo,' who is always allowed to play her part. I have not a 
moment more. Yours ever sincerely." 

The next and last extract I shall give at present is from a let- 
ter, dated Nov. 2, 1775, about three weeks before the first rep- 
resentation of the opera. 

" Our music is now all finished and rehearsing, but we are 
greatly impatient to see you. AVe hold your coming to be neces- 
sary beyond conception. You say you are at our service af- 
ter Tuesday next ; then ' I conjure you by that you do possess, 
in which I include all the powers that preside over harmony, to 
come next Thursday night (this day se'nnight), and we will fix a 
rehearsal for Friday morning. From what I see of their rehears- 
ing at present, I am become still more anxious to see you. 

" We have received all your songs, and are vastly pleased with 
them. You misunderstood me as to the hautboy song ; I had 
not the least intention to fix on ' Belidol mio,"^ However, I think 
it is particularly well adapted, and, I doubt not, will have a great 
effect ***** ^ ^ 

********" 

An allusion which occurs in these letters to the prospect of a 
reconciliation with his father gives me an opportunity of men- 
tioning a circumstance, connected with their difference, for the 
knowledge of which I am indebted to one of the persons most 
interested in remembering it, and which, as a proof of the natural 
tendency of Sheridan's heart to let all its sensibilities flow in the 
right channel, ought not to be forgotten. During the run of one of 
his pieces, having received information from an old family servant 
that his father (who still refused to have any intercourse with 
him) meant to attend, with his daughters, at the representation of 
the piece, Sheridan took up his station by one of the side scenes, 
opposite to the box where they sat, and there continued, unob- 
served, to look at them during the greater part of the night. On his 
return home, he was so affected by the various recollections that 
came upon him, that he burst into tears, and, being questioned as 



112 



MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 



to the cause of his agitation by Mrs. Sheridan, to whom it was 
new to see him returning thus saddened from the scene of his 
triumph, he owned how deeply it had gone to his heart " to think 
that there sat his father and his sisters before him, and yet that he 
alone was not permitted to go near them or speak to them." 

On the 21st of November, 1775, -The Duenna was performed 
at Covent Garden, and the following is the original cast of the 
characters, as given in the collection of Mr. Sheridan's Dramatic 
Works : — 



Don Ferdinand 

Isaac Mendoza 
Don Jerome 
Don Antonio 
Father Paul 
Lopez 
Don Carlos 
Francis 
Lay Brother 

Donna Louisa 
Donna Clara 
The Duenna 



Mr, Mattocks. 
Mr. Quick. 
Mr, Wilson. 
Mr. Duhellamy. 
Mr. Watson. 
Mr. Wewitzer. 
Mr. Leoni. 
Mr Fox. 
Mr. Baker. 

Mrs. Mattocki 
Mrs. Cargill.* 
Mrs. Green. 



The run of this opera has, I believe, no parallel in the annals 
of the drama. Sixty -three nights w^as the career of the Beggar's 
Opera ; but the Duenna was acted no less than seventy-five times 
during the season, the only intermissions being a few days at 
Christmas, and the Fridays in every week ; — the latter on ac 
count of Leoni, who, being a Jew, could not act on those nights. 

In order to counteract this great success of the rival house, 
Garrick found it necessary to bring forward all the weight of his 
own best characters ; and even had recourse to the expedient of 
playing off the mother against the son, by reviving Mrs. Frances 
Sheridan's comedy of The Discovery, and acting the principal 
part in it himself In allusion to the increased fatigue which this 
competition with The Duenna brought upon Garrick, who was 
then entering on his sixtieth year, it w^as said, by an actor of the 
day, that " the old woman would be the death of the old man." 

* This is incorrect : it was Miss Brown that played Donna Clara for the first few nigiits. 



HlGHT RON. RICHARD BRINSLEV SHERIDAN. llB 

The Duenna is one of the very few operas in our language, 
which combine the merits of legitimate comedy with the attrac- 
tions of poetry and song ; — that divorce between sense and sound, 
to which Dr. Brown and others trace the cessation of the early 
miracles of music, being no where more remarkable than in the 
operas of the English stage. The " Sovereign of the willing 
soul" (as Gray calls Music) always loses by being made ex- 
clusive sovereign, — and the division of her empire with poe- 
try and wit, as in the instance of The Duenna, doubles her real 
power. 

The intrigue of this piece (which is mainly founded upon an 
incident borrowed from the " Country Wife" of Wycherley) is 
constructed and managed with considerable adroitness, having 
just material enough to be wound out into three acts, without 
being encumbered by too much intricacy, or weakened by too 
much extension. It does not appear, from the rough copy in my 
possession, that any material change was made in the plan of the 
work, as it proceeded. Carlos was originally meant to be a Jew, 
and is called " Cousin Moses" by Isaac, in the first sketch of the 
dialogue ; but possibly from the consideration that this would 
apply too personally to Leoni, who was to perform the charac- 
ter, its designation was altered. The scene in the second act, 
where Carlos is introduced by Isaac to the Duenna, stood, in its 
original state, as follows : — 

*' Isaac. Moses, sweet coz, I thrive, I prosper. 

'' Moses. Where is your mistress? 

'' Isaac. There, you booby, there she stands. 

" Moses. Why she's damu'd ugly. 

•' Isaac. Hush I {stops his mouth.) 

'- Duenna. What is your friend saying, Don ? 

'' Isaa:, Oh, Ma'am, he's expressing his raptures at such charms as he 
never saw before. 

^'Moses. Ay, such as I never saw before indeed, {aside.) 

'• Duenna. You are very obliging, gentlemen ; but, I dare say, Sir, your 
Mend is no stranger to the influence of beauty. I doubt not but he is a 
lover himself. 

'* Moses. Alas ! Madam, there is now but one woman living;, whom I have 
ony love for, and truly, Ma'am, you resemble her wonderfully. 



114 MEMOmS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

" Duenna. Well, Sir, I wish she may give you her hand as speedily as 1 
shall mine to your friend. 

^' Moses. Me her hand ! — Lord, Ma'am — she is the last woman in the 
world I could think of marrying. 

'^ Duenna. What then, Sir, are you comparing me to some wanton — some 
courtezan ? 

" Isaac. Zounds ! he durstn't. 

'' Moses. not I, upon my soul. 

•' Duenna. Yes, he meant some young harlot — some 

^' Moses. Oh, dear Madam, no — it was my mother I meant, as I hope to be 
saved. 

** Isaac. Oh the blundering villain 1 {aside.) 

" Duenna. How, Sir— am I so like your mother ? 

•' Isaac. Stay, dear Madam — my friend meant — that you put him in mind 
of what his mother was when a girl — didn't you, Moses ? 

^' Moses. Oh yes, Madam, my mother was formerly a great beauty, a 
great toast, I assure you ; — and when she married my father about thirty 
years ago, as you may perhaps remember, Ma-am 

*• Duenna. I, Sir ! I remember thirty years ago ! 

'' Isaac. Oh, to be sure not, Ma'am — thirty years ! no, no — it was thirty 
months he said, Ma'am — wasn't it, Moses? 

*' Moses. Yes, yes, Ma'am — thirty months ago, on her marriage with my 
father, she was, as I was saying, a great beauty ; — but catching cold, the 
year afterwards, in child-bed of your humble servant 

'^ Duenna. Of you, Sir ! — and married within these thirty months ! 

" Isaac. Oh the devil ! he has made himself out but a year old ! — Come, 
Moses, hold your tongue. — You must excuse him. Ma'am — he means to be 
civil — but he is a poor, simple fellow — an't you, Moses ? 

'< Moses. 'Tis true, indeed, Ma'am," &c. &c. &c. 

The greater part of the humor of Moses here was afterwards 
transferred to the character of Isaac, and it will be perceived that 
a few of the points are still retained by him. 

The wit of the dialogue, except in one or two instances, is of 
that accessible kind which lies near the surface — which may be 
enjoyed without wonder, and rather plays than shines. He had 
not yet searched his fancy for those curious fossils of thought 
which jnake The School for Scandal such a rich museum of wit. 
Of this precious kind, however, is the description of Isaac's neu- 
tiality in religion — " like the blank leaf between the Old and New 
Testament." As an instance, too, of the occasional abuse of this 



RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 115 

researchj which led him to mistake labored conceits for fancies, 
may be mentioned the far-fetched comparison of serenaders to 
Egyptian embalmers, " extracting the brain through the ears." 
For this, however, his taste, not his invention, is responsible, as 
we have already seen that the thought was borrowed from a let- 
ter of his friend Halhed. 

In the speech of Lopez, the servant, with which the opera opens, 
:liere are, m the original copy, some humorous points, which ap- 
pear to have fallen under the pruning knife, but which are not un 
worthy of being gathered up here : — 

^' A plague on these haughty damsels, say I : — when they play their airs 
on their whining gallants, they ought to consider that we are the chief 
sufferers, — we have all their ill-humors at second-hand. Donna Louisa^s 
cruelty to my master usually converts itself into blows, by the time it gets 
to me : — she can frown me black and blue at any time, and I shall carry 
the marks of the last box on the ear she gave him to my grave. Nay, if 
she smiles on any one else, I am the sufferer for it : — if she says a civil 
word to a rival, I am a rogue and a scoundrel ; and, if she sends him a 
letter, my back is sure to pay the postage. ^^ 

In the scene between Ferdinand and Jerome (act ii. scene 3) 
the following lively speech of the latter was, I know not why, 

left out : — 

'' Ferdin but he has never sullied his honor, which, with his title, 

has outlived his means. 

^^ Jerome. Have they? More shame for them I — What business have 
honor or titles to survive, when property is extinct ? Nobility is but as a 
helpmate to a good fortune, and, like a Japanese wife, should perish on the 
funeral pile of the estate !" 

In the first act, too, (scene 3) where Jerome abuses the Du- 
enna, there is an equally unaccountable omission of a sentence, 
in which he compares the old lady's face to " parchment, on which 
Time and Deformity have engrossed their titles.'^ 

Though some of the poetry of this opera is not much above 
that ordinary kind, to which music is so often doomed to be wed- 
ded — making up by her own sweetness for the dulness of her 
help-mate — ^by far the greater number of the songs are full of 
beauty, and some of them may rank among the best models of 



116 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THi! 

lyric writing. The verses, " Had I a heart for falsehood framed,'* 
notwithstanding the stiffness of this word " framed," and one or 
two other slight blemishes, are not unworthy of living in recol- 
lection with the matchless air to which they are adapted. 

There is another song, less known, from being connected with 
less popular music, w^hich, for deep, impassioned feeling and na- 
tural eloquence, has not, perhaps, its rival, through the w^hole 
range of lyric poetry. As these verses, though contained in the 
common editions of The Duenna, are not to be found in the opera, 
as printed in the British Theatre, and, still more strangely, are 
omitted in the late Collection of Mr. Sheridan's Works,* I 
should feel myself abundantly authorized in citing them here, 
even if their beauty were not a sufficient excuse for recalling 
them, under any circumstances, to the recollection of the reader : — 

^' Ah, cruel maid, how hast thou changed 
The temper of my mind ! 
My heart, by thee from love estranged, 
Becomes, like thee, unkind. 

'^ By fortune favor'd, clear in fame, 
I once ambitious was ; 
And friends I had who fann'd the flame, 
And gave my youth applause. 

" But now my weakness all accuse, 
Yet vain their taunts on me ; 
Friends, fortune, fame itself I'd lose, 
To gain one smile from thee. 

" And only thou should'st not despise 
My weakness or my woe ; 
If I am mad in others' eyes, 
'Tis thou hast made me so. 

" But days, like this, with doubting curst, 
I will not long endure — 
Am I disdain'd — I know the worst, 
And likewise know my cure. 

* For this Edition of his Works T am no further responsible tnan In having comiuimi- 
cated to it a few prefatory pages, to account and apologize to the public for the delay oi 
the Life. 



RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 117 

" If, false, her vow she dare renounce, 
That instant ends my pain ; 
For, oh ! the heart must break at once, 
That cannot hate again.'' 

It is impossible to believe that such verses as these had no 
deeper inspiration than the imaginary loves of an opera. They 
bear, burnt into every line, the marks of personal filing, and 
must have been thrown off in one of those passionate moods of 
the heart, with which the poet's own youthful love had made him 
acquainted, and under the impression or vivid recollection of 
which these lines were written. 

In comparing this poem with the original w^ords of the air to 
which it is adapted, (Parnell's pretty lines, " My days have been 
so wondrous free,") it will be felt, at once, how wide is the differ- 
ence between the cold and graceful effusions of taste, and the fer- 
vid bursts of real genius — between the delicate product of the 
conservatory, and the rich child of the sunshine. 

I am the more confirmed in the idea that this song was written 
previously to the opera, and from personal feeling, by finding 
among his earlier pieces the originals of two other songs — "I 
ne'er could any lustre see," and " What bard, oh Time, discover." 
The thought, upon wnich the latter turns, is taken from a poem 
already cited, addressed by him to Mrs. Sheridan in 1773 ; and 
the following is the passage that supplied the material : — 

" Alas, thou hast no wings, oh Time, 
It was some thoughtless lover's rhyme, 
Who, writing in his Chloe's view, 
Paid her the compliment through you. 
For, had he, if he truly lov'd, 
But once the pangs of absence prov'd, 
He'd cropt thy wings, and, in their stead, 
Have painted thee with heels of lead." 

It wnll be seen presently, that this poem was again despoiled 
of some of its lines, for an epilogue which he began a few years 
after, upon a very different subject. There is something, it must 
be owned, not very sentimental in this conversion of the poetry 



,118 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

of affection to other and less sacred uses — as if, like the orna- 
raents of a passing pageant, it might be broken up after the show 
was over, and applied to more useful purposes. That the young 
poet should be guilty of such sacrilege to love, and thus steal 
back hir. golden offerings from the altar, to melt them down into 
utensils of worldly display, can only be excused by that demand 
upon the riches of his fancy, which the rapidity of his present ca- 
reer in the service of the dramatic muse occasioned. 

There is not the same objection to the approbation of the other 
song, which, it will be seen, is a selection of the best parts of the 
following Anacreontic verses : — • 

'* I ne'er could any lustre see* 
In eyes that would not look on me : 
When a glance aversion hints, 
I always think the lady squints. 
I ne'er saw nectar on a lip, 
But where my own did hope to sip. 
No pearly teeth rejoice my view, 
Unless a * yes' displays their hue — 
The prudish lip, that noes me back, 
Convinces me the teeth are black, 
To me the cheek displays no roses, 
Like that th' assenting blush discloses ; 
But when with proud disdain 'tis spread, 
To me 'tis but a scurvy red. 
Would she have me praise her hair ? 
Let her place my garland there. 
Is her hand so white and pure ? 
I must press it to be sure ; 
Nor can I be certain then, 
Till it grateful press again. 
Must I praise her melody ? 
Let her sing of love and me. 
If she choose another theme, 
I'd rather hear a peacock scream. 

* Another mode of beginning ihiS song in the MS. — 

" Go tell the maid v/ho, seeks to move 

My lyre to praise, my heart to love, 

No rose upon her cheek can live, 

Like those assenting blushes give.'^ 



RIGHT HON. KICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 119 

Must I, with attentive eye, 
Watch her heaving bosom sigh ? 
I will do so, when I see 
That heaving bosom sigh for me. 
None but bigots will in vain 
Adore a heav'n they cannc-; gain. 
If I must religious prove 
To the mighty God of Love, 
Sure I am it is but fair 
He, at least, should hear my prayer. 
But, by each joy of his Vve known, 
And all I yet shall make my own. 
Never will I, with humble speech. 
Pray to a heav'n I cannot reach." 

Ill the song, beginning " Friendship is the bond of reason/' Ihe 
third verse was originally thus : — 

" And, should I cheat the world and thee, 
One smile from her I love to win. 
Such breach of human faith would be 
A sacrifice, and not a sin.'^ 

To the song " Give Isaac the nymph," there were at first two 
more verses, which, merely to show how judicious was the omis- 
sion of them, I shall here transcribe. Next to the advantage of 
knowing what to put into our writings, is that of knowing what to 
leave out : — 

^' To one thus accomplish- d I durst speak my mind, 
And flattery doubtless would soon make her kind ; 
For the man that should praise her she needs must adore. 
Who ne- er in her life received praises before. 

''But the frowns of a beauty in hopes to remove, 
Should I prate of her charms, and tell of my love ; 
No thanks wait the praise v;hich she knows to be ti'u^e. 
Nor smiles for the homage she takes as her due.'' 

Among literary piracies or impostures, there are few more 
audacious than the Dublin edition of the Duenna, — m which, 
though the songs are given accui^ately, an entire! v new dialogue 



120 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

k substituted for that of Sheridan, and his gold, as in the barter 
of Glaucus, exchanged for such copper as the following : — 

'• Duen. Well, Sir, I don't want to stay in your house ; but I must go 
and lock up my wardrobe. 

'' Isaac. Your wardrobe ! when you came into my house you could carry 
your wardrobe in your comb-case, you could, you old dragon.'' 

Another specimen : — 

'' Isaac. Her voice, too. you told me, was like a Virginia Nightingale ; 
why, it is like a cracked warming-pan : — and as for dimples! — to be sure, 
she has the devil's own dimples. — Yes ! and you told me she had a lovely 
down upon her chin, like the down of a peach ; but, damn me if ever I 
saw such down upon any creature in my life, except once upon an old goat.'' 

■Ilv.se jokes, I need not add, are all the gratuitous contributions 
of the editor. 

Towards the close of the year 1775, it was understood that Gar- 
rick meant to part with his moiety of the patent of Drury Lane 
Theatre, and retire from the stage. He was then in tha sixtieth 
year of his age, and might possibly have been influenced by the 
natural feeling, so beautifully expressed for a great actor of our 
own time, by our greatest living writer : 

'•' Hicrher duties crave 



Some space between the theatre and the grave 5 
That, like the Roman in the Capitol, 
I may adjust my mantle, ere I fall."* 

The progress of the negotiation between him and Mr. Sheri- 
dan, which ended in making the latter patentee and manager, can- 
not better be traced than in Sheridan's own letters, addressed at 
the time to Mr. Linley, and most kindly placed at my disposal 
by my friend Mr. William Linley. 

"Dear Sir, • Sunday^ Dec. 31, 1775. 

"I was always one of the slowest letter- writers ui the world, 
though I have had more excuses than usual for my delay in this 

* Kemble's Farewell Address on taking leave of the Edinburgh stage, written by Si? 
Walter Scott, 



RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAJST. 121 

instance. The principal matter of business on which I was to 
have written to you, related to our embryo negotiation with Gar- 
rick, of which I will now give you an account. 

" Since you left town, Mrs. Ewart has been so ill, as to continue 
near three weeks at the point of death. This, of course, has pre- 
vented Mr. E. from seeing anybody on business, or from accom- 
panying me to Garrick's. However, about ten days ago, I talked 
the matter over with him by myself, and the result was, appoint- 
ing Thursday evening last to meet him, and to bring Ewart, which 
I did accordingly. On the whole of our conversation that even- 
ing, I began (for the first time) to think him really serious in the 
business. He still, however, kept the reserve of giving the refu- 
sal to Colman, though at the same time he did not hesitate to as- 
sert his confidence that Colman w^ould decline it. I was deter- 
mined to push him on this point, (as it was really farcical for us 
to treat with him under such an evasion,) and at last he prom- 
ised to put the question to Colman, and to give me a decisive 
answer by the ensuing Sunday (to-day). Accordingly, within tliis 
hour, I have received a note from him, which (as I meant to show 
it my father) I here transcribe for you. 

" ' Mr. Garrick presents his compliments to Mr, Sheridan^ and^ 
as he is obliged to go into the country for three days, he should he 
glad to see him upon his return to toivn, either on Wednesday about 
G or 7 0^ clock, or whenever he jyleases. The party has no objection 
to the whole, but chooses no partner hut Mr. G. Nut a word of this 
yet. Mr. G. sent a messenger on purpose, (i. e. to Colman), He 
would call upon Mr. S., hut he is confined at home. Your name 
is upon our list.'' 

" This decisive answer may be taken two ways. However, as 
Mr. G. informed Mr. Ewart and me, that he had no authority or 
pretensions to treat for the lohole, it appears to me that Mr. Gar- 
rtck's meaning in this note is, that Mr. Colman declines the pur- 
chase of Mr. Gar-ride's share, which is the point in debate, and 
the only part at present to be sold. I shall, therefore, wait on G. 
at the time mentioned, and, if I understand him right, we shall 
certainly without delay appoint two men of business and the law 

VOL. T. G 



122 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

to meet on the matter, and come to a conclusion without further 
delay. 

" According to his demand, the whole is valued at 70,000/. He 
appears very shy of letting his books be looked into, as the test 
of the profits on this sum, but says it must be, in its nature, a 
purchase on speculation. However, he has promised me a rough 
estimate, of his own^ of the entire receipts for the last seven years. 
But, after all, it must certainly be a ^purchase on speculation^ with- 
out money'' s worth being made out. One point he solemnly avers, 
which is, that he will never part with it under the price above- 
mentioned. 

" This is all I can say on the subject till Wednesday, though I 
can't help adding, that I think we might safely give five thousand 
pounds more on this purchase than richer people. The whole 
valued at 70,000/., the annual interest is 3,500/. ; while this is 
cleared^ the proprietors are safe^ — but 1 think it must be infernal 
management indeed that does not double it. 

" I suppose Mr. Stanley has written to you relative to your 
oratorio orchestra. The demand, I reckon, will be diminished 
one third, and the appearance remain very handsome, which, if 
the other aflTair takes place, you will find your account in ; and, if 
you discontinue your partnership with Stanley at Drury Lane, 
the orchestra may revert to w^hichever wants it, on the other's 
paying his proportion for the use of it this year. This is Mr. 
Garrick's idea, and, as he says, might in that case be settled by 
arbitration. 

" You have heard of our losing Miss Brown ; however, we have 
missed her so little in the Duenna, that the managers have not 
tried to regain her, which I believe they might have done. I have 
had some books of the music these many days to send you down. 
I wanted to put Tom's name in the new music, and begged Mrs. 
L. to ask you, and let me have a line on her arrival, for which 
purpose I kept back the index of the songs. If you or he have 
no objection, pray let me know Fil send the music to-morrow. 

'' 1 am finishing a two act comedy for Covent-Garden, which 
will be in rehearsal m a week. We have given the Duenna a 



EIGHT HON. RICHARD BKINSI-FY SHERIDAN. 123 

respite this Christmas, but nothing else at present brings money. 
We have every place in the house taken for the three next nights, 
and shall, at least, play it fifty nights, with only the Friday's in 
tsrmission. 

" My best love and the compliments of the season to all your 
fire-side. 

"Your grandson is a very magnificent fellow."^ 

"Yours ever sincerely, 

"R. B. Sheridan.'* 

" Dear Sir, January 4, 1776. 

" I left Garrick last night too late to write to you. He has 
offered Colman the refusal, and showed me his answer ; which 
was (as in the note) that he was willing to purchase the whole, 
but would have no partner but Garrick. On this, Mr. Garrick 
appointed a meeting with his partner, young Leasy, and, in pre- 
sence of their solicitor, treasurer, &;c., declared to him that he 
was absolutely on the point of settling, and, if he was willing, he 
might have the same price for his share ; but that if he (Leasy) 
would not sell, Mr. Garrick would, instantly, to another party. 
The result was, Leasy's declaring his intention of not parting 
with his share. Of this Garrick again informed Colman, who 
immediately gave up the whole matter. 

" Garrick was extremely explicit, and, in short, we came to a 
final resolution. So that, if the necessary matters are made out 
to all our satisfactions, we may sign and seal a previous agree- 
ment within a fortnight. 

" I meet him again to-morrow evening, when we are to name 
a day for a conveyancer on our side, to meet his solicitor, Wal 
lace. I have pitched on a Mr. Phips, at the recommendation 
and by the advice of Dr. Ford. The three first steps to be ta- 
ken are these, — our lawyer is to look into the titles, tenures, <fec. 
of the house and adjoining estate, the extent and limitations of 
the patent, &;c. We should then employ a builder (I think^ Mr. 
Collins,) to survey the state and repair in which the whole pre- 

♦ Sheridan's first child, Thomas, born in the preceding yeai 



124 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

mises are, to which G. entirely assents. Mr. G. will then give 
us a fair and attested estimate from his books of what the profits 
have been, at an average, for these last seven years."^ This he 
has shown me in rough, and valuing the property at 70,000/., the 
interest has exceeded ten per cent. 

" We should, after this, certainly make an interest to get the 
King's promise, that, while the theatre is well conducted, &c. he 
will grant no patent to a third, — though G. seems confident that 
he never w^ill. If there is any truth in professions and appear- 
ances, G. seems likely always to continue our friend, and to give 
every assistance in his power. 

" The method of our sharing the purchase, I should think, may 
be thus,— Ewart, to take 10,000/., you 10,000/., and I, 10,000/. 
— Dr. Ford agrees, w^ith the greatest pleasure, to embark the 
other five ; and if you do not choose to venture so much, will, I 
dare say, share it with you. Ewart is preparing his money, and 
I have a certainty of my part. We shall have a very useful 
ally in Dr. Ford ; and my father offers his services on our own 
terms. We cannot unite Garrick to our interests too firmly ; 
and I am convinced his influence will bring Leasy to our terms, 
if he should be ill-advised enough to desire to interfere in what 
he is totally unqualified for. 

" I'll w^rite to you to-morrow relative to Leasy's mortgage 
(which Garrick has, and advises us to take), and many other par- 
ticulars. When matters are in a certain train (which I hope will 
be in a week,) I suppose you will not hesitate to come to town 
for a day or two. Garrick proposes, when we are satisfied with 
the bargain, to sign a previous article, with a penalty of ten 
thousand pounds on the parties who break from fulfilling the 
purchase. When we are once satisfied and determined in the 
business (which, I own, is my case), the sooner that is done the 
better. I must urge it particularly, as my confidential coimec- 
tion with the other house is peculiarly distressing, till I can with 
prudence reveal my situation, and such a treaty (however pru- 

♦ These accounts were found among Mr. Sheridan's papers. Gairick's income from the 
theatre for the year 1775-6 Is thus stated :— '' Author 4001., salary, 800L, manager 500L'* 



M6RT HON. KICHARD BRlNSLEY SHERIDAN. 125 

dently managed) cannot long be kept secret, especially as Leasy 
is now convinced of Garrick's resolution. 

*'I am exceedingly hurried at present, so, excuse omissions, 
and do not flag when we come to the point. I'll answer for it, 
we shall see many golden campaigns. 

" Yours ever, 

" R. B. Sheridan. 

" You have heard, I suppose, that Foote is likely never to 
show his face again." 

" Dear Sir, January 31st, 1776. 

" I am glad you have found a person who will let you have 
the money at four per cent. The security will be very clear; 
but, as there is some degree of risk, as in case of fire, I think 
four per cent, uncommonly reasonable. — It will scarcely be any 
advantage to pay it ofl*, for your houses and chapel, T suppose, 
bring in much more. Therefore, while you can raise money at 
four per cent, on the security of your theatrical share onl]/, you 
will be right to alter, as little as you can, the present disposition 
of your property. 

" As to your quitting Bath, I cannot see why you should doubt 
a moment about it. Surely, the undertaking in which you em- 
bark such a sum as 10,000/. ought to be the chief object of your 
attention — and, supposing you did not choose to give up all your 
time to the theatre, you may certainly employ yourself more 
profitably in London than in Bath. But, if you are willing (as 
I suppose you will be) to make the theatre the great object of 
your attention, rely on it you may lay aside every doubt of not 
finding your account in it ; for the fact is, we shall have nothing 
but our own equity to consult in making and obtaining any de- 
mand for exclusive trouble. Leasy is utterly unequal to any 
department in the theatre. He has an opinion of me, and is 
very willing to let the whole burthen and ostensibility be taken 
off his shoulders. But I certainly should not give up my time 
and labor (for his superior advantage, having so much greater 
a share) without some exclusive advantage. Yet, I should by 



126 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

no means make the demand till I had shown myself equal to the 
task. My father pm'poses to be with us but one year ; and tliat 
only to give me what advantage he can from his experience* 
He certainly must be paid for his trouble^ and so certainly must 
you. You have experience and character equal to the line you 
would undertake ; and it never can enter into any body's head 
that you were to give your time or any part of your attention 
gratis, because you had a share in the theatre. I have spoke on 
this subject both to Garrick and Leasy, and you will find no de- 
mur on any side to your gaining a certain income from the thea- 
tre — greater, I think, than you could make out of it — and in this 
the theatre will be acting only for its own advantage. At the 
same time you may always make leisure for a few select schol- 
ars, whose interest may also serve the greater cause of your pa- 
tentee-ship. 

" I have had a young man with me who wants to appear as a 
singer in plays or oratorios. I think you'll find him likely to be 
serviceable in either. He is not one-and-twenty, and has no 
conceit. He has a good tenor voice — very good ear and a 
great deal of execution, of the right kind. He reads notes very 
quick, and caii accompany himself This is Betsey's verdict, 
who sat in judgment on him on Sunday last. I have given him 
no answer, but engaged him to wait till you come to town. 

" You must not regard the reports in the paper about a third 
theatre — ^^that's all nonsense. 

" Betsey's and my love to all. Your grandson astonishes 
every body by his vivacity, his talents for music and poetry, and 
the most perfect integrity of mind. 

" Yours most sincerely, 

'^R. B. Sheridan." 

In the following June the contract with Garrick was perfected ; 
and in a paper drawn up by ]Mr. Sheridan many years after, I 
find the shares of the respective purchasers thus stated : — 

Mr. Sheridan, two fourteenths of the whole . 10,000/. 

Mr. Linley, ditto i A 000/. 

Dr. Ford, 3 ditto . ... . . 15,uia/». 



RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 12 



n 



Mr. Ewart, it will be perceived, though criginally mentioned 
as one of the parties, had no concern in the final arrangement. 

Though the letters, just cited, furnish a more detailed account 
than has yet been given to the public of this transaction by which. 
Mr. Sheridan became possessed of his theatrical property, they 
still leave us in the dark with respecc to the source from w^hich 
his own means of completing the purchase were derived. Not 
even to Mr. Linley, while entering into all other details, does he 
hint at the fountam head from which this supply is V come : — 



" • gentes maluit ortui 

Mirarij quam nosse tuosJ^ 



There w^as, indeed, something mysterious and miraculous about 
all his acquisitions, whether in love, in learning, in wit, or in 
wealth. Hov/ or when his stock of knowledge was laid in, no- 
body knew — it was as much a matter of marvel to those who 
never saw him read, as the existence of the chameleon has been 
to those who fancied it never eat. His advances in the heart of 
his mistress were, as we have seen, equally trackless and inau- 
dible, and his triumph was the first that even rivals knew of his 
love. In like manner, the productions of his wit took the world 
by surprise, — being perfected m secret, till ready for display, and 
then seeming to break from under the cloud of his indolence in 
full maturity of splendor. His financial resources had no less an 
air of magic about them ; and the mode by which he conjured up, 
at this time, the money for his first purchase into the theatre, re- 
mains, as far as I can learn, still a mystery. It has been said 
that Mr. Garrick supplied him wdth the means — but a perusal of 
the above letters must set that notion to rest. There w^as evi- 
dently, at this time, no such confidential understanding between 
them as an act of friendship of so signal a nature would imply ; 
and it appears that Sheridan had the purchase money ready, even 
before the terms upon which Garrick would sell were ascertained. 
That Doctor Ford should have advanced the money is not less 
improbable ; for the share of which, contrary to his first inten- 
tion, he ultimately became proprietor, absorbed, there is every 



128 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF TEt^ 

reason to think, the whole of his disposable means. He was af- 
terwards a sufferer by the concern to such an extent, as to be 
obliged, in consequence of his embarrassments, to absent himself 
for a consi.lerable time from England ; and there are among the 
papers of Mr. Sheridan, several letters of remonstrance addressed 
to him by the son of Dr. Ford, in which some allusion to such a 
friendly service, had it ever occurred, would hardly have been 
omitted. 

About the -^ni of this year some dissensions arose between the 
new patentees and Mr. Lacy, in consequence of the expressed in- 
tention of the latter to introduce two other partners into the es 
tablishment, by the disposal of his share to Captain Thomson and 
a Mr. Langford. By an account of this transaction, which ap- 
pears in 'a Periodical Paper published at the time,* and which, 
from its correctness in other particulars, I rather think may be 
depended on, it would seem that Sheridan, in his opposition to 
Lacy, had proceeded to the extremity of seceding from his own 
duties at the theatre, and inducing the principal actors to adopt 
the same line of conduct. 

" Does not the rage (asks this writer) of the new managers, all directed 
against the innocent and justifiable conduct of Mr. Lacy, look as if they 
meant to rule a theatre, of which they have only a moiety among them, 
and feared the additional weight and influence which would be given to 
Mr. Lacy by the assistance of Captain Thomson and Mr. Langford ? If 
their intentions were right, why should they fear to have their power bal- 
anced, and their conduct examined ? Is there a precedent in the annals of 
the theatre, where the acting manager deserted the general property, left 
the house, and seduced the actors from their duties — why ? forsooth, because 
he was angry. Is not such conduct actionable ? In any concern of com- 
mon property. Lord Mansfield would make it so. And, what an insult to 
the public, from whose indulgence and favor this conceited young man, 
with his wife and family, are to receive their daily bread ! Because Mr. 
Lacy, in his opinion, had used him ill — his patrons and benefactors might 
go to the devil ! Mr. Lacy acted with great temper and moderation ; 
and, in order that the public might not be wholly disappointed, he brought 
on old stock-plays — his brother manager having robbed him of the means 
and instruments to do otherwise, by taking away the performers." 

* The Selector. 



Hl^HT HON. RiCHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 12§ 

It is also intimated in the same publication that Mr. Garrick 
had on this occasion " given Mr. Sheridan credit on his banker 
for 20,000Z. for law expenses or for the purchase of Messrs. 
Langford and Thomson's shares." 

The dispute, however, was adjusted amicably. Mr. Lacy was 
prevailed upon to write an apology to the public, and the design 
of disposing of his share in the theatre was, for the present, relin- 
quished. 

There is an allusion to this reconciliation in the following char- 
acteristic letter, addressed by Sheridan to Mr. Linley inthe spring 
of the following year. 

"Dear Sir, 

" You write to me though you tell me you have nothing to 
say — now, I have reversed the case, and have not wrote to you, 
because I have had so much to say. However, I find I have de- 
layed too long to attempt now to transmit you a long detail of 
our theatrical manoeuvres ; but you must not attribute my not 
writing to idleness, but on the contrary to my not having been 
idle. 

" You represent your situation of mind between hopes and fears. 
I am afraid I should argue in vain (as I have often on this point 
before) were I to tell you, that it is always better to encourage 
the former than the latter. It may be very prudent to mix a 
little fear by way of alloy with a good solid mass of hope ; but 
you, on the contrary, always deal in apprehension by the pound, 
and take confidence by the grain, and spread as thin as leaf gold. 
In fact, thoucrh a metaphor mayn't explain it, the truth is, that, in 
all undertakings which depend principally on ourselves, the surest 
wav not to fail is to determine to succeed, 

" It would be endless to say more at present about theatrical 
matters, only, that every thing is going on very well. Lacy 
promised me to write to you, which I suppose, however, he has 
not done. At our first meeting after you left town, he cleared 
away all my doubts about his sincerity ; and I dare swear we 
shall never have the least misunderstanding again, nor do I be- 

VOL. I. 6* 



ISO MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THll 

lieve he will ever take any distinct counsel in future. Relative to 
your affair he has not the shade of an objection remaining, and is 
only anxious that you may not take amiss his boggling at first 
We have, by and with the advice of the privy council, concluded 
to have Noverre over, and there is a species of pantomime to be 
shortly put on foot, which is to draw all the human kind to Dru- 
ry."^ This is become absolutely necessary on account of a mar- 
vellous preparation of the kind which is making at Covent Gar- 
den. 

" Touching the tragedies you mention, if you speak of them 
merely as certam tragedies that may be had, I should think it 
impossible we could find the least room, as you know Garrick 
saddles us wath one which we must bring out. But, if you have 
any particular desire that one of them should be done, it is 
another affair, and I should be glad to see them. Otherwise, I 
would much rather you would save the disagreeableness of giving 
my opinion to a fresh tragic bard, being already in disgrace w^ith 
about nine of that irascible fraternity. 

" Betsey has been alarmed about Tom, but without reason. He 
is in my opinion better than when you left him, at least to ap- 
pearance, and the cold he caught is gone. \Ye sent to see him 
at Battersea, and would have persuaded him to remove to Orchard 
Street ; but he thinks the air does him good, and he seems with 
people where he is at home, and may divert himself, which, per- 
haps, will do him more good than the air, — but he is to be with 
us soon. 

" Ormsby has sent me a silver branch on the score of the 
Duenna. This wdll cost me, v;hat of all things I am least free 
of, a letter : and it should have been a poetical one, too, if the 
present had been any piece of plate but a candlestick ! — I believe 
I must melt it into a bowl to make verses on it, for there is no 
possibility of bringing candle, candlestick, or snuffers, into metre. 
However, as the gift was owing to the muse, and the manner of 
it very friendly, I believe I shall try to jingle a little on the 

* I find that the pAnlomirne at "Prury Lane this year was a revival of *' Harlequm's 
Invasion," and ihrir at Covent Garden, "Harlequin's Frolics." 



RIGHT HOK. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. I3l 

occasion ; at least, a few such stanzas as might gain a cup of 
tea from the urn at Bath-Easton. 

" Betsey is very well, and on the point of giving Tom up to 
feed like a Christian and a gentleman, or, in other words, of 
weaning, waining, or weening him. As for the young gentleman 
himself, his progress is so rapid, that one may plainly see the 
astonishment the sun is in of a morning, at the improvement of 
the night. Our loves to all. 

" Yours ever, and truly, 

" R. B. Sheridan." 

The first contribution which the dramatic talent of the new 
manager furnished to the stock of the theatre, was an alteration 
of Vanbrugh's comedy, The Eelapse, which was brought out 
on the 24th of February, 1777, under the title of " A Trip to 
Scarborough." 

In reading the original play, we are struck with surprise, that 
Sheridan should ever have hoped to be able to defecate such dia- 
logue, and yet leave any of the wit, whose whole spirit is in the 
lees, behind. The very life of such characters as Berinthia is 
their licentiousness, and it is with them, as w^ith objects that are 
luminous from putrescence, — to remove their taint is to extin- 
guish their light. If Sheridan, indeed, had substituted some of 
his own wit for that which he took away, the inanition that fol- 
lowed the operation would have been *nluch less sensibly felt. 
But to be so liberal of a treasure so precious, and for the enrich- 
ment of the work of another, could hardly have been expected 
fxom him. Besides, it may be doubted whether the subject had 
not already yielded its utmost to Vanbrugh, and whether even in 
the hands of Sheridan, it could have been brought to bear a 
second crop of wit. Here and there through the dialogue, there 
are some touches from his pen — more, however, in the style of 
his farce than his comedy. For instance, that speech of Lord 
Foppington, where, direcLing the hosier not " to thicken the 
calves of his stockings so much," he says, " You should always 
remember, Mr. Hosier, that it you make a nobleman's spring 



132 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

legs as robust as his autumnal calv^es, you commit a monstrous 
Impropriety, and make no allowance for the fatigues of the win 
ter." Again, the following dialogue : — 

^' Jeweller. I hope, my lord, those buckles have had the unspeakable 
satisfaction of being honored with your lordship's approbation? 

'* Lord F. Why, they are of a pretty fancy ; but don't you think them 
rather of the smallest ? 

'' Jeweller. My lord, they could not well be larger, to keep on your lord- 
ship's shoe. 

^' Lord F. My good sir, you forget that these matters are not as they 
used to be : formerly, indeed, the buckle was a sort of machine, intended 
to keep on the shoe ; but the case is now quite reversed, and the shoe is of 
no earthly use but to keep on the buckle." 

About this time Mrs. Sheridan went to pass a few weeks with 
her father and mother at Bath, while Sheridan himself remained 
in town, to superintend the concerns of the theatre. During this 
interval he addressed to her the follow^ing verses, which I quote, 
less from their own peculiar merit, than as a proof how little his 
heart had yet lost of those first feelings of love and gallantry 
which too often expire in matrimony, as Faith and Hope do in 
heaven, and from the same causes — 

*^ One lost in certainty, and one in joy." 

TO LAURA. 

*' Near Avon's ridgy bank there gTOWs 
A willow of no vulgar size, 
That tree first heard poor Silvio's woes. 
And heard how bright were Laura's eyes. 

Its boughs were shade from heat or show'r, 

Its roots a moss-grown seat became ; 
Its leaves would strew the maiden's bow'r, 

Its bark was shattered with her name ! 

Once on a blossom-crowned day 

Of mirth-inspiring May, 

Silvio, beneath this willow's sober shade, 

In sullen contemplation laid, 



EIGHT HON. EICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 133 

Did mock the meadow's flowery pride, — 

Rail'd at the dance and sportive ring ; — 
The tabor's call he did deride, 

And said, it was not Spring, 

He scorn'd the sky of azure blue, 

He scorn'd whate'er could mirth bespeak ; 

He chid the beam that drank the dew. 

And chid the gale that fann'd his glowing cheek. 

Unpaid the season's wanton lay. 

For still he sigh'd, and said, it was not Ma^ 

" Ah, why should the glittering stream 

Reflect thus delusive the scene ? 
Ah, why does a rosy-ting'd beam 

Thus vainly enamel the green ? 
To me nor joy nor light they bring : 
I tell thee, Phoebus, His not Spring. 

" Sweet tut'ress of music and love, 

Sweet bird, if 'tis thee that I hear. 
Why left you so early the grove. 

To lavish your melody here ? 
Cease, then, mistaken thus to sing. 
Sweet nightingale ! it is not Spring. 

" The gale courts my locks but to tease, 

And, Zephyr, I call not on thee : 
Thy fragrance no longer can please, 

Then rob not the blossoms for me : 
But hence unload thy balmy wing. 
Believe me. Zephyr, 'tis 7iot Spring. 

' Yet the lily has drank of the show'r. 

And the rose 'gins to peep on the day ; 
And yon bee seems to search for a flow'r, 

As busy as if it were May : — 
In vain, thou senseless flutt'ring thing. 
My heart informs me. His not Spring.''^ 

May pois'd her roseate wings, for she had heard 
The mourner, as she pass'd the vales along ; 

And, silencing her own indignant bird. 
Sue thus reprov'd poor Silvio's song. 



184 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

" How false is the sight of a lover ; 
How ready his spleen to discover 

\yhat reason would never allow ! 
Why, — Silvio, my sunshine and show'rs, 
My blossoms, my birds, and my flow'rs, 

Were never more perfect than now. 

" The water's reflection is true, 
The green is enameird to view, 

And Philomel sings on the spray ; 
The gale is the breathing of spring, 
'Tis fragrance it bears on its wing, 
And the bee is assur'd it is May,^^ 

" Pardon (said Silvio with a gushing tear), 
"'TIS spring, sweet nymph, hut Laura is 7iot here.^^ 

In sendiqg these verses to Mrs. Sheridan, he had also written 
her a description of some splendid party, at which he had lately 
been present, where all the finest women of the world of fashion 
were assembled. His praises of their beauty, as well as his 
account of their flattering attentions to himself, awakened a feel- 
ing of at least poetical jealousy in Mrs. Sheridan, which she 
expressed in the following answer to his verses — takmg occasion, 
at the same time, to pay some generous compliments to the 
most brilliant among his new fashionable friends. Though her 
verses are of that kind which we read more with interest than 
admiration, they have quite enough of talent for the gentle 
themes to which she aspired ; and there is, besides, a charm 
about them, as commg from Mrs. Sheridan, to which far better 
poetry could not pretend. 

TO SILVIO. 

" Soft flowed the lay by Avon's sedgy side, 

AVhile o'er its streams the drooping willow hung, 
Beneath whose shadow Silvio fondly tried 
To check the opening roses as they sprung. 

In vain he bade them cease to court the gale, 

That wanton- d balmy on the zephyr's wing; 
In vain, when Philomel renew'd her tale, 

ge chid her song, and said ■ It was not Spring.'' 



RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN". 135 

For still they bloom'd, tho' Silvio's heart was sad, 

Nor did sweet Philomel neglect to sing ; 
The zephyrs scorned them not. tho' Silvio had, 

For love and nature told them it was Spring.* 

* * * 

To other scenes doth Silvio now repair, 

To nobler themes his daring Muse aspires ; 
Around him throng the gay, the young, the fair, 

His lively wit the listening crowd admires. 

And see, where radiant Beauty smiling stands, 

With gentle voice and soft beseeching eyes, 
To gain the laurel from his willing hands. 

Her every art the fond enchantress tries. 

What various charms the admiring youth surround, 
How shall he sing, or how attempt to praise ? 

So lovely all — where shall the bard be found, 
Who can to 07ie alone attune his lays ? 

Behold with graceful step and smile serene. 
Majestic Stellaf moves to claim the prize : 
" 'Tis thine,'^ he cries, ^' for thou art beauty's queen." 
Mistaken youth ! and sees't thou Myra'sJ eyes ? 

With beaming lustre see they dart at thee : 
Ah ! dread their vengeance — yet withhold thy hand, — 

That deep'ning blush upbraids thy rash decree ; 
Hers is the wreath — obey the just demand. 

** Pardon, bright nymph,'* (the wondering Silvio cries) 
" And oh, receive the wreath thy beauty's due*' — 
His voice awards what still his hand denies. 
For beauteous Amoret§ now his eyes pursue. 

With gentle step and hesitating grace. 
Unconscious of her pow'r the fair one came ; 

If, while he view'd the glories of that face, 

Poor Silvio doubted, — who shall dare to blame ? 

* As the poem altogether would be too long, I have here omitted five or six stanzas. 
f According to the Key which has been given me, the name of Stella was meant to 
designate the Duchess of Rutland. 
J The Duchess of Devonshire. 
f» Mrs. (afterwards Lady) Crewe. 



136 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

A rosy blush his ardent gaze reprov'd, 

The offered wreath she modestly declined ; — 

** If sprightly wit and dimpled smiles are lov'd. 
My brow," said Flavia,* '' shall that garland bind." 

With wanton gaiety the prize she seized — 
Silvio in vain her snowy hand repelPd ; 

The fickle youth unwillingly was pleas'd, 
Reluctantly the wreath he yet withheld. 

But Jessie 'sf all-seducing form appears, 
Nor more the playful Flavia could delight ; 

Lovely in smiles, more lovely still in tears, 
Her every glance shone eloquently bright. 

Those radiant eyes in safety none could view, 

Did not those fringed lids their brightness shade — 

Mistaken youths ! their beams, too late ye knew, 
Are by that soft defence more fatal made. 

" God of Love !" with transport Silvio cries, 
** Assist me thou, this contest to decide ; 
And since to one I cannot yield the prize, 
Permit thy slave the garland to divide. 

" On Myra's breast the opening rose shall blow. 
Reflecting from her cheek a livelier bloom ; 
For Stella shall the bright carnation glow — 
Beneath her eyes' bright radiance meet its doom. 

** Smart pinks and daffodils shall Flavia grace. 
The modest eglantine and violet blue 
On gentle Amoret's placid brow I'll place — 
Of elegance and love an emblem true." 

In gardens oft a beauteous flow'r there grows, 
By vulgar eyes unnoticed and unseen ; 

In sweet security it humbly blows. 
And rears its purple head to deck the green. 

This flower, as nature's poet sweetly sings. 
Was once milk-white, and liearV s-ease was its name ; 

Till wanton Cupid pois'd his roseate wings, 
A vestal's sacred bosom to inflame; 

* Lady Craven, afterwards Margravine of Anspacli. 
I The late Countess of Jersey. 



RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 137 

With treacherous aim the god his arrow drew, 

Which she with icy coldness did repel ; 
ReboundiD£^ thence with feathery speed it flew, 

Till on this lonely flow'r at last it fell. 

Heart' s-ease no more the wandering shepherds found, 

No more the nymphs its snowy form possess ; 
Its white now ohang'd to purple by Love's wound, 

Heart's-e?vse no more, 'tis " Love in Idleness." 

" This flow'r with sweet-brier join'd shall thee adorn, 
Sweet Jessie, fairest 'mid ten thousand fair ! 
But guard thy gentle bosom fi'om the thorn, 
Which, tho' conceaPd, the sweet-brier still must bear. 

" And place not Love, tho' idle, in thy breast, 

Tho' bright its hues, it boasts no other charm- 
So may thy future days be ever blest. 
And friendship's calmer joys thy bosom warm !" 

But where does Laura pass her lonely hours? 

Does she still haunt the grot and willow-tree ? 
Shall Silvio from his wreath of various flowr's 

Neglect to cull one simple sweet for thee ? 

• Ah, Laura, no," the constant Silvio cries, 

" For thee a never-fading wreath I'll twine ; ^ 

Though bright the rose, its bloom too swiftly flies, 
No emblem meet for love so true as mine. 

" For thee, my love, the myrtle, ever-green, 
Shall every year its blossom sweet disclose, 
Which, when our spring of youth no more is seen, 
Shall still appear more lovely than the rose." 

** Forgive, dear youth," the happy Laura said, 
^' Forgive each doubt, each fondly anxious fear, 
Which from my heart for ever now is fled— 
Thy love and truth, thus tried, are doubly dear. 

* With pain I mark'd the various passions rise, 

.When beauty so divine before thee mov'd ; 
With trembling doubt beheld thy wandering eyes, 
For still I fear'd ; — alas ! because I ]ov'd. 



188 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

** Each anxious doubt shall Laura now forego, 
No more regret those joys so lately known, 
Conscious, that tho' thy breast to all may glow, 
Thy faithful heart shall beat for her alone. 

" Then, Silvio, seize again thy tuneful lyre, 

Nor yet sweet Beauty's power forbear to praiso \ 
Again let charms divine thy strains inspire. 
And Laura's voice shall aid the poet's lays." 



EIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 189 



CHAPTER V. 

THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL. 

Mr. Sheridan was now approaching the summit of his dra- 
matic fame ; — he had already produced the best opera in the lan- 
guage, and there now remained for him the glory of writing also 
the best comedy. As this species of composition seems, more, 
perhaps, than any other, to require that knowledge of human 
nature and the world which experience alone can give, it seems 
not a little extraordinary that nearly all our first-rate comedies 
should have been the productions of very young men. Those 
of Congreve were all written before he was five-and-twenty. 
Farquhar produced the Constant Couple in his two-and-twentieth 
year, and died at thirty. Vanbrugh was a young ensign when he 
sketched out the Relapse and the Provoked Wife, and Sheridan 
crowned his reputation with the School for Scandal at six-and- 
twenty. 

It is, perhaps, still more remarkable to find, as in the instance 
before us, that works which, at this period of life, we might sup- 
pose to have been the rapid offspring of a careless, but vigorous 
fancy, — anticipating the results of experience by a sort of second- 
sight inspiration, — should, on the contrary, have been the slow 
result of many and doubtful experiments, gradually unfolding 
beauties unforeseen even by him who produced them, and arriving, 
at length, step by step, at perfection. That such was the tardy 
process by which the School for Scandal was produced, will ap- 
pear from the first sketches of its plan and dialogue, which I am 
here enabled to lay before the reader, and which cannot fail to 
interest deeply all those who take delight in tracing the alchemy 
of genius, and in watching the first slow workings of the men- 
struum, out of which its finest tran salutations arise. 



140 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE Git THE 

" Genius," says Buffon, " is Patience ;" or, (as another French 
wrij:er has explained his thought) — " La Patience cherche, et le 
Genie trouve ;" and there is little doubt that to the co-operation 
of these two powers all the brightest inventions of this world are 

owing ; that Patience must first explore the depths where the 

pearl lies hid, before Genius boldly dives and brings it up full 
into light. There are, it is true, some striking exceptions to this 
rule ; and our own times have witnessed more than one extraor- 
dinary intellect, whose depth has not prevented their treasures 
from lying ever ready within reach. But the records of Immor- 
tality furnish few such instances ; and all we know of the works, 
that she has hitherto marked with her seal, sufficiently authorize 
the general position, — that nothing great and durable has ever 
been produced with ease, and that Labor is the parent of all the 
lasting wonders of this world, whether in verse or stone, whether 
poetry or pyramids. 

The first sketch of the School for Scandal that occurs was 
wuntten, I am inclined to think, before the Rivals, or at least very 
soon after it ; — and that it was his original intention to satirize 
some of the gossips of Bath appears from the title under which 
I find noted down, as follows, the very first hints, probably, that 
suggested themselves for the dialogue. 

^' The Slanderers. — A Pump-Room Scene. 

*' Friendly caution to tlie newspapers. 

*^ It is whispered 

" Slie is a constant attendant at church, and very frequently takes Dr. 
M'Brawn home with her. 

'' Mr. Worthy is very good to the girl ; — for my part, I dare swear he has 
no ill intention. 

" "VYhat ! Major Wesley's Miss Montague ? 

" Lud, ma'am, the match is certainly broke — no creature knows the 
cause ; some say a flaw in the lady's character, and others, in the gentle- 
man's fortune. 

'' To be sure they do say 

" I hate to repeat what I hear. 

" She was inclined to be a little too plump before she went. 

**The most intrepid blush ; — I've known her complexion stand fire for an 
hour together. 



HtGHT HOIST. RICHAED BRINSLEY SHERIDIN. 141 

" ^ She had twins,^ — How ill-natured ! as I hope to be saved, ma'am, she 
had but one ; and that a little starved brat not worth mentioning/' 

The following is the opening scene of his first sketch, from 
which it will be perceived that the original plot was wholly dif- 
ferent from what it is at present, Sir Peter and Lady Teazle 

being at that time not in existence. 

^' Lady Sxeerwell and Spatter. 

^' Lady S. The paragraphs, you say, were all inserted. 

" Spat. They were, madam. 

'' Lady S. Did you circulate the report of Lady Brittle's intrigue with 
Captain Boastall ? 

'' Spat, Madam, by this Lady Brittle is the talk of half the town ; and 
in a week will be treated as a demirep. 

'^ Lady S. What have you done as to the innuendo of Miss Niceley's fond- 
ness for her own footman ? 

'• Spat. 'Tis in a fair train, ma'am. I told it to my hair-dresser,. — he courts 
a milliner's girl in Pall Mall, whose mistress has a first cousin who is wait- 
ing-woman to Lady Clackit. I think in about fourteen hours it must reach 
Lady Clackit, and then you know the business is done. 

" Lady S. But is that sufficient, do you think? 

" Spat. Lud, ma'am, I'll undertake to ruin the character of the prim- 
mest prude in London with half as much. Ha ! ha ! Did your ladyship never 
hear how poor Miss Shepherd lost her lover and her character last summer 

at Scarborough? this was the whole of it. One evening at Lady 's, 

the conversation happened to turn on the difficulty of breeding Nova 

Scotia sheep in England. ' I have known instances,' says Miss , ^ for 

last spring, a friend of mine, Miss Shepherd of Ramsgate, had a Nova Scotia 
sheep that produced her twins.' — ' What !' cries the old deaf dowager Lady 
Bowlwell, 'ha^Miss Shepherd of Ramsgate been brought to bed of twins?' 
This mistake, as you may suppose, set the company a laughing. However, 
the next day. Miss Verjuice Amarilla Lonely, who had been of the party, 
talking of Lady Bowlwell's deafness, began to tell what had happened ; 
but, unluckily, forgetting to say a word of the sheep, it was understood by 
the company, and, in every circle, many believed, that Miss Shepherd of 
Ramsgate had actually been brought to bed of a fine boy and a girl ; and, in 
less than a fortnight, there were people who could name the father, and the 
farm-house where the babies vrere put out to nurse. 

•• Lady S, Ha ! ha ! well, for a stroke of luck, it was a very good one. 
I suppose you find no difficulty in siJ)reading the report on the censorious 
Miss . 



142 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF 1*HE 

^' Spat. None in the world,— she has always been so prudent and reserved, 
that every body was sure there was some reason for it at bottom. 

" Lady S. Yes, a tale of scandal is as fatal to the credit of a prude as a 
fever to those of the strongest constitutions ; but there is a sort of sickly 
reputation that outlives hundreds of the robuster character of a prude. 

" Spat. True, ma'am, there are valetudinarians in reputation as in con- 
stitutions ; and both are cautious from their appreciation and conscious- 
ness of their weak side, and avoid the least breath of air.* 

" Lady S. But, Spatter, I have something of greater confidence now to en- 
trust you with. I think I have some claim to your gratitude. 

'^ Spat. Have I ever shown myself one moment unconscious of what I 
owe you? 

'^ Lady S. I do not charge you with it, but this is an affair of importance. 
You are acquainted with my situation, but not all my weaknesses. I was 
hurt, in the early part of my life, by the envenom'd tongue of scandal, and 
ever since, I own, have no joy but in sullying the fame of others. In this 
I have found you an apt tool : you have often been the instrument of my 
revenge, but you must now assist me in a softer passion. A young widow 
with a little beauty and easy fortune is seldom driven to sue, — yet is that 
my case. Of the many you have seen here, have you ever observed me, 
secretly, to favor one ? 

" Spat. Egad ! I never was more posed : I'm sure you cannot mean that 
ridiculous old knight, Sir Christopher Crab ? 

'* Lady S. A wretch ! his assiduities are my torment. 

*' Spat. Perhaps his nephew, the baronet. Sir Benjamin Backbite, is the 
happy man ? 

^' Lady S. No, though he has ill-nature, and a good person on his side, he 
is not to my taste. What think you of Clerimont?t ♦ 

" Spat. How ! the professed lover of your ward, Maria ; between whom, 
too, there is a mutual affection. 

" Lady,S. Yes, that insensible, that doater on an idiot, is the man. 

*' Spat. But how can you hope to succeed ? 

" Lady S. By poisoning both with jealousy of the other, till the credu- 
lous fool, in a pique, shall be entangled in my snare. 

" Spat. Have you taken any measure for it ? 

" Lady S. I have. Maria has made me the confidante of Clerimont's love 
for her : in return, I pretended to entrust her with my afifection for Sir 



♦ This is one of tne many instances, where tne improvmg effect ci revisicn may be 
traced. The passaofe at present stands thus : — "There are valetudinarians in reputation 
as well as constitution ; who, being conscious of their weak part, avoid the least breath 
of air, and supply the want of stamina by care and circumspection." 

f Afterwards called Florival. 



HIGHT HON. RICHARD BRIKSLEY SHERIDAN. 143 

Benjamin, who is her warm admirer. By strong representation of my pas- 
sion, I prevailed on her not to refuse to see Sir Benjamin, which she once 
promised Clerimont to do. I entreated her to plead my cause, and even 
drew her in to answer Sir Benjamin's letters with the same intent. Of this 
I have made Clerimont suspicious ; but 'tis you must inflame him to the 
pitch I want. 

" Spat. But will not Maria, on the least unkindness of Clerimont, in- 
stantly come to an explanation ? 

^* Lady S. This is what we must prevent by blinding ***♦*'» 

The scene that follov^s, between Lady Sneerwell and Maria, 
gives some insight into the use that was to be made of this intri- 
cate ground-work,* and it was, no doubt, the difficulty of man- 
aging such an involvement of his personages dramatically, that 
drove him, luckily for the world, to the construction of a sim- 
pler, and, at the same time, more comprehensive plan. He 
might also, possibly, have been influenced by the consideration, 
that the chief movement of this plot must depend upon the jea- 
lousy of the lover, — a spring ,of interest which he had already 
brought sufficiently into play in the Rivals. 

" Lady Sneerwell. Well, my love, have you seen Clerimont to-day ? 

" Maria. I have not, nor does he come as often as he used. Indeed, ma 
dam, I fear what I ha e done to serve you has by some means come to his 
knowledge, and injured me in his opinion. I promised him faithfully never 
to see Sir Benjamin. What confidence can he ever have in me, if he once 
finds I have broken my word to him '^ 

" Lady S. Nay, you are too grave. If he should suspect any thing, it 
will always be in my power to undeceive him. 

" Mar. Well, you have involved me in deceit, and I must trust to you to 
extricate me. 

'^ Lady S. Have you answered Sir Benjamin's last letter in the manner I 
wished? 

. " Mar. I have written exactly as you desired me : but I wish you vrould 
give me leave to tell the whole truth to Clerimont at once. There is a cold- 
ness in his manner of late, which I can no ways account for. 

* The following- is his own arrangement of the Scenes of the Second Act. 

"Act n. Scene 1st. All.— 2d. Lady S. and Mrs. C— Sd. Lady S. and * * Em. and *Lr«. 
C. listening. — Ith. L. S. and Flor. sliows him into the room, — bids him return the other way. 
— L. S. and Emma. — Emma and Florival ;— fits, — maid. — Emma fainting and sobbing:— 
'Death, don't expose me !' — enter n^aid, — will call out — aU come on with cards and gmell- 
ing bottles." 



144 MEMOIES OF THE LIFE OF THE 

" Lady S. {aside.) I'm glad to find I have worked on him so far ;— fie, 
Maria, have you so little regard for me ? would you put me to the shame 
of being known to love a man who disregards me ? Had you entrusted me 
with such a secret, not a husband's power should have forced it from me. 
But, do as you please. Go, forget the affection I have shown you : forg'et 
that I have been as a mother to you, whom I found an orphan. Go, break 
through all ties of gratitude, and expose me to the world's derision, to 
avoid one sullen hour from a moody lover. 

^* Afar. Indeed, madam, you wrong me ; and you who know the appre- 
hension of love, should make allowance for its weakness. My love for 
Clerimont is so great — 

'' Lady S. Peace ; it cannot exceed mine. 

'' Mar, For Sir Benjamin, perhaps not, ma'am and, I am sure, Cleri- 
mont has as sincere an affection for me. 

'' Lady S. Would to heaven I could say the same ! 

'^ Mar. Of Sir Benjamin : — I wish so too, ma'am. But I am sure you 
would be extremely hurt, if, in gaining your wishes, you were to injure me 
in the opinion of Clerimont. 

'' Lady S. Undoubtedly ; I would not for the world — Simple fool ! (aside,) 
But my wishes, my happiness depend on you — for, I doat so on the insen- 
sible, that it kills me to see him so attached to you. Give me but Cleri- 
mont, and 

" Mar. Clerimont ! 

'' Lady S. Sir Benjamin, you know, I meant. Is he not attached to you ? 
am I not slighted for you ? Yet, do I bear any enmity to you, as my rival? 
I only request your friendly intercession, and you are sc ungrateful, you 
would deny me that. 

•• Mar. Nay, madam, have I not done everything you wished ? For you, 
I have departed ft'om truth, and contaminated my mind with falsehood — 
what could I do more to serve you ? 

" Lady S. Well, forgive me, I was too warm. I know ycu would not be- 
tray me. I expect Sir Benjamin and his uncle this morning — why, Maria, 
do you always leave our little parties ? 

'' Mar. I own, madam, I have no pleasure in their conversation. I have 
myself no gratification in uttering detraction, and therefore none in hear 
ing it. 

" Lady S. Oh fie, you are serious — 'tis only a little harmless raillery. 

" 3far. I never can think that harmless which hurts the peace of youth, 
draws tears from beauty, and gives many a pang to the innocent. 

'^ Lady S. Nay, you must allow that many people of sense and wit have 
this foible — Sir Benjamin Backbite, for instance. 

'' Mar. He may, but I confess I never can perceive wit where I see 
malice. 



felGHT KON. RICHARD BRlXSLEY SHERIDAN. l45 

** Ladij S. Fie, Maria, you have the most unpolished way of thinking ! 
It is absolutely impossible to be witty without being a little ill-natured. 
The malice of a good thing is the barb that makes it stick. I protest now 
when I say an ill-natured thing, I have not the least malice against the 
person ; and, indeed, it may be of one whom I never saw in my life ; for 
I hate to abuse a friend— but I take it for granted, they all speak as ill- 
naturedly of me. 

" Mar. Then you are, very probably, conscious you deserve it — for my 
part, I shall only suppose myself ill-spoken of, when I am conscious J de- 
serve if 

Enter Servant. 
" Ser. Mrs. Candor. 
■ " Mar. Well, I'll leave you. 

" Lady S. No, no, you have no reason to avoid her, she is good nature 
itself. 

" Mar. Yes, with an artful affectation of candor, she does more injury 
than the worst backbiter of them all.'^ 

Ufiter Mrs. Candor. 

" Mrs. Cand. So, Lady Sneerwell, how d'ye do ? Maria, child, how dost ? 
Well, who is't you are to marry at last ? Sir Benjamin or Clerimont ? The 
town talks of nothing else." 

Through the remainder of this scene the only difference in the 
speeches of Mrs. Candor is, that they abound more than at pre- 
sent in ludicrous names and anecdotes, and occasionally straggle 
into that loose wordiness, which, knowing how much it weakens 
the sap of wit, the good taste of Sheridan was always sure to 
lop away. The same may be said of the greater part of that 
scene of scandal which at present occurs in the second Act, and 
in which all that is now spoken by Lady Teazle, was originally 
put into the mouths of Sir Christopher Crab and others — the 
caustic remarks of Sir Peter Teazle being, as well as himself, an 
after creation. 

It is chiefly, however, in Clerimont, the embryo of Charles 
Surface, that we perceive how imperfect may be the first linea- 
ments, that Time and Taste contrive to mould gradually into 
beauty. The following is the scene that introduces him to the 
audience, and no one ought to be disheartened by the failure of 

VOL. r. 7 



146 ME^rOiRS OF WE LIFE OF THE 

a first attempt after reading it. The spiritless language — the 
awkward introduction of the sister into the plot — the antiquated 
expedient* of dropping the letter — all, in short, is of the most 
andramatic and most unpromising description, and as little like 
what it afterwards turned to as the block is to the statue, or the 
grub to the butterfly. 

*' Sir 0. This Clerimont is, to be sure, the drollest mortal ! he is one 
of yoiir moral fellows, who does unto others as he would they should do 
unto him. 

•• Ladi/ Sneer. Yet he is sometimes entertaining. 

" Sir 0. Oh hang him, no — he has too much good nature to say a witty 
thing himself, and is too ill-natured to praise wit in others. 

I^7iter Clerlmoxt. 

" ^?> B. So, Clerimont — we were just wishing for you to enliven us 
with your wit and agreeable vein. 

•• Cler. So, Sir Benjamin, I cannot join you. 

•' Sir B. Why, man, yon look as grave as a young lover the fii'st time 
he is jilted. 

^' Cler. I have some cause to be grave. Sir Benjamin. A word with you 
all. 1 have JQst received a letter from the country, in which I understand 
that my sister has suddenly left my uncle's house, and has not since been 
heard of. 

•• Lady S. Indeed I and on what provocation? 

'• Cler. It seems they were urging her a little too hastily to marry some 
country squire that was not to her taste. 

^' Sir B. Positively I love her for her spirit. 

*• Lady S. And so do I. and would protect her, if I knew where she was. 

'^ Cler. Sir Benjamin, a word with you — {takes him apart.) I think, sir, 
we have lived for some years on what the world calls the footing of friends. 

" Sir B. To my great honor, sir — Well, my deai* friend ? 

*• Cler. You know that you once paid your addresses to my sister. My 
uncle disliked you : but I have reason to think you were not indifferent to her. 

•• Sir B. I believe you are pretty right there ; ut what follows? 

" Cler. Then I think I have a right to expect an implicit answer from 
you, whether you are in any respect privy to her elopement? 

" Sir B. Why. you certainly have a right to ask the question, and I will 
answer you as sincerely — which is. that though I make no doubt but that 

* Tliis objection seems to have occurred lo biinstvf ; for one of his memorandums is — 
"Noi lodrop the lelier, bui lake il from liie maid. 



RlGHi? HON. RICHARD BRIKSLEY SHERIDAN. 14? 

she would have gone with me to the world's end. I am at present entirely 
ignorant of the whole affair. This I declare to you upon my honor — and, 
what is more, I assure you my devotions are at present paid to another 
lady — one of your acquaintance, too. 

'' Cler. {Aside.) Now, who can this other be whom he alludes to ? — I 
have sometimes thought I perceived a kind of mystery between him and 
Maria — but I rely on her promise, though, of late, her conduct to me has 
been strangely reserved. 

'' Lady S. Why, Clerimont, you seem quite thoughtful. Come with us ; 
we are going to kill an hour at ombre — your mistress will join us. 

*^ Cler. Madam, I attend you. 

^^ Lady S. {Taking Sir B. aside.) Sir Benjamin, I see Maria is now com- 
ing to join us — do you detain her awhile, and I will contrive that Clerimont 
should see you, and then drop this letter. \_Exeunt all but Sir. B. 

'' Enter Maria. 

" Mar. I thought the company were here, and Clerimont — 

'^ Sir B. One, more your slave than Clerimont, is here. 

'' Mar. Dear Sir Benjamin, I thought you promised me to drop this sub- 
ject. If I have really any power over you, you will oblige me — 

'^ Sir B. Power over me ! "^^Tiat is there you could not command me in? 
Have you not wrought on me to proffer my love to Lady Sneerwell ? Yet 
though you gain this from me, you will not give me the smallest token of 
gratitude. 

*' LJnter Clerimont behind. 

" Mar. How ca'i I believe your love sincere, when you continue still to 
importune me ? 

'' Sir B. I ask but for your friendship, your esteem. * 

'' Mar. That you shall ever be entitled to — then I may depend upon 
your honor ? 

'' Sir B. Eternally — dispose of my heart as you please. 

'• Mar. Depend upon it, I shall study nothing but its happiness. I need 
not repeat my caution as to Clerimont ? 

'' Sir B. No. no. he suspects nothing as yet. 

• Mar. For, within these few days, I almost believed that he suspects 
rae. 

'' Sir B. Never fear, he does not love well enough to be quick sighted ; 
for just now he taxed me with eloping with his sister. 

'' Mar. Well, we had now best join the company. [Exeunt. 

" Cler. So, now — who can ever have faith in woman! D — d deceitful 
wanton ! why did she not fairly tell me that she was weary of my address- 
es? that, woman-like, her mind was changed, and another fool succeeded. 



148 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

" Enter Lady Sneerwell. 

" Lady S. Clerimont, "^hy do you leave us? Think of my losing this 
hand. {Cler. She has no heart) — five mate — (^Cler. Deceitful wanton!)" 
spadille. 

*• Cler. Oh yes. ma'am — 'twas very hard. 

" Lady S But you seem disturbed : and where are Maria and Sir Ben- 
jamin ? I vow I shall be jealous of Sir Benjamin. 

" Cler. I dare swear they are together very happy, — but, Lady Sneer- 
-s^ell — you may perhaps often have perceived that I am discontented with 
Maria. I ask you to tell me sincerely — have you ever perceived it ? 

** Lady S. I wish you would excuse me. 

" Oler, Nay, you have perceived it — I know you hate deceit. * * 
♦ * * * *?/* 

I have said that the other sketch, m which Sir Peter and Lady 
Teazle are made the leading personages, was written subsequent- 
ly to that of which I have just given specimens. Of this, how- 
ever, I cannot produce any positive proof. There is no date on 
the m-anuscripts, nor any other certain clue, to assist in deciding 
the precedency of time between them. In addition to this, the 
two plans are entirely distinct, — Lady Sneerwell and her asso- 
ciates being as wholly excluded from the one, as Sir Peter and 
Lady Teazle are from the other ; so that it is difficult to say, 
with certainty, which existed first, or at what time the happy 
thought occurred of blendmg all that was best in each into one. 

The following are the Dramatis Personam of the second plan : — 

Sir Rowland Harpur. 

Plausible. 

Capt. Harry Plausible. 

Freeman. 

Old Teazle.* {Left off trade.) 

Mrs. Teazle. 

Maria. 

♦ The first intention was, as appears from his introductory speech, to give Old Teazle 
the Christian name of Solomon. Sheridan was, indeed, most fastidiously changeful in 
his names. The present Charles Surface was at first Clerimont, then Florival, then Cap- 
tain Harry Plausible, then Harry Pliant or Pliable, tlien Young Harrier, and then Frank 
— while his elder brother was successively Plausible, Pliable, Young Pliant, Tom, and, 
lastly, Joseph Surface. Trip was originally called Spunge ; the name of :f nake was m 
the earlier sketch Spatter, and, even after the union of the two plots into one, all llie 
business of the opening scene with Lady Sneerwell, at present transacted by Snake, was 
given to a character afterwards wholly uniiltcd, Miss Verjuice. 



BIGHT HON. RICHAED BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 149 

From this list of the personages we may conclude that the 
quarrels of Old Teazle and his wife, the attachment between 
Maria and one of the Plausibles, and the intrigue of Mrs. Tea- 
zle with the other, formed the sole materials of the piece, as then 
constructed.* There is reason too to believe,*from the follow- 
ing memorandum, which occurs in various shapes through these 
manuscripts, that the device of the screen was not yet thought 
of, and that the discovery was to be effected in a very different 
manner — 

*' Making Icve to aunt and niece — meeting wrong in the dark — some one 
coming — locks up the aunt, thinking it to be the niece.' ^ 

I shall now give a scene or two from the Second Sketch — 
which shows, perhaps, even more strikingly than the other, the 
volatilizing and condensing process which his wit must have gone 
through, before it attained its present proof and flavor. 

" ACT L— Scene I. 

" Old Teazle alone, 

" In the year 44 I married my first wife ; the wedding was at the end 
of the year— aye, 'twas in December ; yet, before Ann. Dom. 45, 1 repent- 
ed. A month before we swore we preferred each other to the whole world 
—perhaps we spoke truth ; but, when we came to promise to love each 
other till death, there I am sure we lied. Well, Fortune owed me a good 
turn ; in 48 she died. Ah, silly Solomon, in 52 I find thee married again ! 
Here, too, is a catalogue of ills — Thomas, l)orn February 12 : Jane born 
Jan. 6 ; so they go on to the number of five. However, by death I stand 
credited but by one. Well, Margery, rest her soul I was a queer creature ; 
when she was gone, I felt awkward at first and being sensible that wi^^hea 
availed nothing, I often wished for her return. For ten years more I kept 
my senses and lived single. Oh, blockhead, dolt Solomon! AVithin this 
twelvemonth thou art married again — married to a woman thirty years 
younger than thyself ; a fashionable woman. Yet I took her with cau- 
tion ; she had been educated in the country ; but now she has more ex- 
travagance than the daughter of an earl, more levity than a Countess. 
What a defect it is in our laws, that a man who has once been branded in 
the forehead should be hanged for the second offence. 

* This was most probably the '' two act Comedy," which he *:inouiiced to Mr. Linley aa 
preparing for represenlatioii in 1775. 



150 'memoirs of the life of the 

^^ Enter Jarvls. 

'' Teaz. T\aio's there ? Well, Jarvis? 

^^ Jarv. Sir, there are a number of my mistress's tradesmen without, 
clamorous for their money. 

•' Teaz. Are thoife their bills in your hand? 

'' Jarv. Something about a twentieth part, Sir. 

'' Teaz. What ! have you expended the hundred pounds I gave you for 
her use ? 

*' Jarv. Long ago. Sir, as you may judge by some of the items : — • Paid 
lh3 coach-maker for lowering the fi-ont seat of the coach.' 

'• Taz. What the deuce was the matter with the seat? 

" Jarv. Oh Lord, the carriage was too low for her by a foot when she was 
dressed — so that it must have been so, or have had a tub at top like a hat- 
case on a travelling trunk. Well, Sir, {reads.) ' Paid her two footmen 
half a year's wages, 50/.' 

'* Teaz. 'Sdeath and fury! does she give her footmen a hundred a year? 

" Jarv. Yes, Sir, and I think, indeed, she has rather made a good bargain, 
for they find their own bags and bouquets. 

'•Teaz. Bags and bouquets for footmen! — halters and bastinadoes!* 

^' Jarv. ' Paid for my lady's own nosegays, 50/.' 

" Teaz. Fifty pounds for flowers ! enough to turn the Pantheon into a 
green-house, and give a Fete Champetre at Christmas. 

•^ ^Lady Teaz. Lord, Sir Peter, I wonder you should grudge me the most 
innocent articles in dress— and then for the expense — flowers cannot be 
cheaper in winter— -you should find fault with the climate, and not with me. 
I am sure I wish with all my heart, that it was Spring all the year roun(^, 
and that roses grew under one's feet. 

" 8ir P. Nay, but, madam, then you would not wear them ; but try 
snowballs and icicles. But tell me, madam, how can you feel any satisfac- 



* Transferred afterwards to Trip and Sir Oliver. 

f We observe here a change in his plan, with respect both to the titles of 0]d Teazle 
and his wife, and the presence of the latter d jing this scene, which was evidently not at 
first intended. 

From the following skeleton of the scenes o this piece it would appear that (inconsis- 
tently, in some degree, with my notion of its oeing the two act Comedy announced m 
1775) he had an idea of extending the plot through five acts 

*' Act 1st, Scene 1st, Sir Peter and Stev/ard— 2d, Sir P. and Lady— then Young Pliable. 

" Act 2d. Sir P. and Lady— Young Harrier— Sur P. and Sir Rowland, and Old Jeremy— 
Sir R. and Daughter— Y. P. and Y. H. 

"Act 3d, Sir R., Sir P. and 0. J.— 2d, Y. P. and Company, Y. R. 0. R.— Gd, Y. H. and 
Maria — Y. H., 0. R. and Young Harrier, to borrow. 

"Act 4lh, Y. P. and Maria, to borrow his money ; gets away what he had receiVM 
from his uncle— Y. P. Old Jer. and tradesmer —P. and Lady T." &c. &c. 



RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLIEY SHERIDAN. 151 

tion in wearing these, when you might reflect that one of the rose-buds 
would have furnished a poor family with a dinner ? 

•' Lady T. Upon my word, Sir Peter, begging your pardon, that is a 
very absurd way of arguing. By that rule, why do you indulge in the 
least superfluity? I dare swear a beggar might dine tolerably on your 
great-coat, or sup off your laced waistcoat — nay, I dare say, he wouldn't 
eat your gold-headed cane in a week. Indeed, if you would reserve nothing 
but necessaries, you should give the first poor man you meet your wig, and 
walk the streets in your night-cap, which, you know, becomes you very 
much. 

*' &W P. Well, go on to the articles. 

^' Jarv. {Reading.) 'Fi'uit for my lady's monkey, bl, per week.' 
^^ Sir P. Five pounds for a monkey ! — why 'tis a dessert for an alderman ! 
" Lady T. Why, Sir Peter, would you starve the poor animal ? I dare 
swear he lives as reasonably as other monkeys do. 
'' Sir P. Well, well, go on. 
" Jarv. ' China for ditto'— 
^- Sir I\ What, docs he eat out of china? 

*• Lady T. Repairing china that he breaks — and I am sure no monkey 
breaks less. 
" Jarv. ' Paid Mr. Warren for perfumes — milk of roses, 30/.' 
'' Lady T. Very reasonable. 

** Sir P. 'Sdeath, madam, if you had been born to these expenses I should 
not have been so much amazed ; but I took you, madam, an honest coun- 
try squire's daughter — 

" JMdy T, Oh, filthy ; don't name it. Well, heaven forgive my mother, 
but I do believe my father must have been a man of quality. 

'' Sir P. Yes, madam, when first I saw you, you were dressed in a pretty 
figured linen gown, with a bunch of keys by your side ; your occupations, 
madam, to superintend the poultry ; your accomplishments, a complete 
knowledge of the family receipt-book — then you sat in a room hung round 
with fruit in worsted of your own working ; your amusements were to 
play country-dances on an old spinnet to your father while he went asleep 
after a fox-chase — to read Tillotson's sermons to your aunt Deborah. These, 
madam, were your recreations, and these the accomplishments that capti- 
vated me. Now, forsooth, you must have two footmen to your chair, and 
a pair of white dogs in a phaeton ; you forget when you used to ride 

double behind the butler on a docked bay coach-horse Now you 

must have a French hair-dresser ; do you think you did not look as well 

when you had your hair combed smooth over a roller? Then you 

could be content to sit with me, or walk by the side of the — Ha ! Ha I 

*^ Lady T. True I did ; and, when you asked me if I could love an old 
fellow, who would deny me nothing, I simpered and said ' Till death.' 



152 MEMOIKS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

^' Sir P. AVby did you say so ? 

" Lddi/ T, Shall I tell you the truth? 

" Sir F, If it is not too great a favor. 

^^ Lady T. Why, then, the truth is, I was heartily tired of all these agree* 
able recreations you have so well remembered, and havlng"a spirit to spend 
and enjoy fortune, I was determined to marry the first fool I should meet 
with you made me a wife, for which I am much obliged to you, and 

if you have a wish to make me more grateful still, make me a widow/''* 

* * * * * * * 

^' Sir P. Then, you never had a desire to please me, or add to my hap- 
piness ? 

^^ Lady T. Sincerely, I never thought about you ; did you imagine that 
age was catching ? I think you have been overpaid for all you could be- 
stow on me. Here am I surrounded by half a hundred lovers, not one of 
whom but would buy a single smile by a thousand such baubles as you 
grudge me. 

" Sir P. Then you wish me dead ? 

" Lady T, You know t do not, for you have made no settlement on me. 

* * . * * . * * * 
^* Sir P. I am but middle-aged. 

" Lady T, There's the misfortune ; put yourself on, or back, twenty 

years, and either way I should like you the better. 

^ * * * * * * 

Yes, sir, and then your behavior too was different ; you would dress, and 
smile, and bow ; fly to fetch me anything I wanted ; praise every thing I did 
or said : fatigue your stiff face with an eternal grin ; nay, you even com- 
mitted poetry, and mufiled your harsh tones into a lover's whisper to sing 
it yourself, so that even my mother said you Avere the smartest old bachelor 

she ever saw— a billet-doux engrossed on buckram !!!!!! f 

* ***** * 

Let girls take my advice and never marry an old bachelor. He must be^ 
so either because he could find nothing to love in women, or because wo- 
men could find nothing to love in hiiu." 

The greater part of this dialogue is evidently experimental^ 
and the play of repartee protracted with no other view, than to 
take the chance of a trump of wit or humor turning up. 

In comparing the two characters in this sketch with what they 
are at present, it is impossible not to be struck by the signal 

* The speeclies which T have omitted consist inerely of repetitions of the same thoucrhts, 
with but very little variation of the langua«?e. 

t these notes of admiration are in tlie original, and seem meant to express the iurpri&e 
of Iho auUiar '<\\ the extravagance of his own joke. 



EIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 153 

change that they have undergone. The transformation of Sir Pe- 
ter into a gentleman has refmed, without weakening, the ridicule of 
his situation ; and there is an interest created by the respecta- 
bility, a.:d amiableness of his sentiments, which, contrary to the 
effect produced in general by elderly gentlemen so circumstanced, 
makes us rejoice, at the end, that he has his young wife all to 
himself. The improvement in the character of Lady Teazle is 
still more marked and successful. Instead of an ill-bred young 
shrew, whose readiness to do wrong leaves the mind in but little 
uncertainty as to her fate, we have a lively and innocent, though 
imprudent country girl, transplanted into the midst of all that 
can bewilder and endanger her, but with still enough of the pu- 
rity of rural life about her heart, to keep the blight of the world 
from settling upon it permanently. 

There is indeed in the original draught a degree of glare alid 
coarseness, which proves the eye of the artist to have been fresh 
from the study of Wycherly and Vanbrugh ; and this want of 
delicacy is particularly observable in the subsequent scene be- 
tween Lady Teazle and Surface — the chastening down of which 
to its present tone is not the least of those triumphs of taste and 
skill, which every step in the elaboration of tins Comedy ex- 
hibits. 

"/Sfcme* — Young Pltant*s Room. 

" Young P, I wonder her ladyship is not here : she promised me to call 
this morning. I have a hard game to play here, to pursue my designs on 
Maria. I have brought myself into a scrape with the mother-in-law. How- 
ever, I think we have taken care to ruin my brother's character with my 
uncle, should he come to-morrow. Frank has not an ill quality in his na- 
ture ; yet, a neglect of forms, and of the opinion of the world, has hurt him 
in the estimation of all his graver friends. I have profited by his errors, 
and contrived to gain a character, which now serves me as a mask to lie 
under. 

'' Enter Lady Teazle. 

'' Lady T. TVTiat, musing, or thinking of me ? 

" Young P. I was thinking unkindly of you ; do you know now that 
you must repay me for this delay, or I must be coaxed into good humor ? 

* The Third of the fourth Act in the present form of the Comedy. This scene uiider^ 
went many changes afterwards, and was oflener put back into the crucible than any 
other part of the pla 

VOL. I. 7* 



154 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

" Lady T. Nay, in faith you should pity me — this old curmudgeon of late 
is growing so jealous, that I dare scarce go out, till I know he is secure for 
some time. 

^^ Young P. I am afraid the insinuations we have had spread about Frank 
have operated too strongly on him — we meant only to direct his suspi- 
cions to a wrong object. 

'^ Lady T. Oh. hang him! I tave told him plaialy that if he continues to 
be so suspicious, I'll leave him entirely, and make him allow me a sepa- 
rate maintenance. 

••' Young P. But, my charmer, if ever that should be the case, you see 
before you the man who will ever be attached to you. But you must not 
let matters come to extremities ; you can never be revenged so well by 
leaving him, as by living with him, and let my sincere affection make 
amends for his brutality. 

" Jjady T. But how shall I be sure now that you are sincere? I have 
sometimes suspected that you loved my niece.* 

'' Young P. Oh, hang her, a puling idiot, without sense or spirit. 

" Lady T, But what proofs have I of your love to me, for I have still so 
much of my country prejudices left, that if I were to do a foolish thing 
(and I think I can't promise) it shall be for a man who would risk every 
thing for me alone. How shall I be sure you love me ? 

•^ Young P. I have dreamed of you every night this week past. 

^' Lady T. That's a sign you have slept every night for this week past ; 
for my part, I would not give a pin for a lover who could not wake for a 
month in absence. 

" Young P. I have written verses on you out of number. 

'■''Lady T. I never saw any. 

^' Young P. No — they did not please me, and so I tore them. 

^^ Lady T. Then it seems you wrote them only to divert yourself. 

" Young P. Am I doomed for ever to suspense ? 

'* Lady T. I don't know — if I was convinced 

*' Young P, Then let me on my knees 

*' L^ady T. Nay, nay, I will have no raptures either. This much I can tell 
you, that if I am to be seduced to do wrong, I am not to be taken by storm, 
but by deliberate capitulation, and that only where my reason or my heart 
is convinced. 

^' Young P. Then, to say it at once — the world gives itself liberties 

'' Lady T. Nay, I am sure without cause ; for I am as yet unconscious of 
any ill, though I know not what I may be forced to. 

•^ Young P. The fact is, my dear Lady Teazle, that your extreme inno- 

* He had not yet deci4^4 whether to make Maria tlie ditughter-in-law or niece of Lady 
Teazle. 



RIGHT HON. RICHAED BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 155 

cence is the very cause of your danger ; it is the integrity of your heart 
that makes you run into a thousand imprudences which a full conscious- 
ness of error would make you guard against. Now, in that case, you canH 
conceive how much more circumspect you would be. 

'' Lady T. Do you think so ? 

'' Young P. Most certainly. Your character is like a person in a ple- 
thora, absolutely dying of too much health. 

^' Lady T. So then you would have me sin in my own defence, and part 
with my virtue to preserve my reputation.* 

'' Young P. Exactly so, upon my credit, ma'am.'' 

******* 

It will be observed, from all I have cited, that much of the 
original material is still preserved throughout ; but that, like the 
ivory melting in the hands of Pygmalion, it has lost all its first 
rigidity and roughness, and, assuming at every touch some va- 
riety of aspect, seems to have gained new grace by every change. 

" Mollescit ehur, posit ague rigor e 
Subsidit digiiis, ceditque ui Hymettia sole 
Cera remollescit, tractataque poll ice multas 
Flectitur in facics, ipsoque fit utilis usu.''^ 

Where'er his fingers move his eye can trace 
The once rude ivory softening into grace — 
Pliant as wax that, on Hymettus' hill, 
Melts in the sunbeam, it obeys his skill ; 
At every touch some different aspect shows. 
And still, the oftener touch 'd the lovelier grows. 

I need not, I think, apologize for the length of the extracts I 
have given, as they cannot be otherwise than interesting to all 
lovers of literary history. To trace even the mechanism of an 
author's style through the erasures and alterations of his rough 
copy, is, in itself, no ordinary gratification of curiosity ; and the 
hrouillon of Rousseau's Heloise, in the library of the Chamber o^ 
Deputies at Paris, affords a study in which more than the mere 
'' auceps syllabarum" might delight. But it is still more inter- 

* This sentence seems to have haunted him — I find it written in every direction, and 
without any material change in its form, over the pages of his diiferent memorandum 
books. 



156 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

esting to follow thus the course of a writer's thoughts — to watch 
the kmcllmg of new fancies as he goes — to accompany him in his 
change of plans, and see the various vistas that open upon him 
at every step. It is, indeed, like being admitted by seme magical 
power, to witness the mysterious processes of the natural world 
— to see the crystal forming by degrees round its primitive nu 
cleus, or observe the slow ripening of 

•' the imperfect ore, 
" And know it will be gold another day !" 

In respect of mere style, too, the workmanship of so pure a 
writer of English as Sheridan is well worth the attention of all 
who would learn the difficult art of combining ease with polish, 
and being, at the same time, idiomatic and elegant. There is 
not a page of these manuscripts that does not bear testimony to 
the fastidious care with which he selected, arranged, and moulded 
his language, so as to form it into that transparent channel of his 
thoughts, which it is at present. 

His chief objects in correcting were to condense and simplify 
— to get rid of all unnecessary phrases and epithets, and, in short, 
to strip away from the thyrsus of his wit every leaf that could 
render it less light and portable. One instance out of many 
will show the improving effect of these operations.'* The follow- 
ing is the original form of a speech of Sir Peter's : — 

" People vrho utter a tale of scandal, knovf ing it to be forged, deserve 
the pillory more than for a forged bank-note. They can't pass the lie 
without putting their names on the back of it. You say no person has a 
right to come on you because you didn't invent it ; but you should know 
that, if tlie drawer of the lie is out of the way, the injured party has a 
right to come on any of the indorsers." 

When this is compared with the form in which the same 

* In one or two sentences he has left a degree of siiifuessin the style, not so much from 
madvertence as from the sacrifice of ease to point. Thus, in the following example, he 
has been tempted by an antithesis into an inversion of phrase by tio means idiomatic. 
"The plain state of the matter is this — I am an extravagant young fellow who xoant 
money to horruw; you, I lake- to be a prudent old feilov/ who have got money to lend." 

In the Collection of his Works tliis phrase is given difterenily — but without authority 
from my of the manuscript copies. 



RIGHT ilON. KICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. lo? 

thought is put at present, it will be perceived how much the wit 
has gained in lightness and effect by the change : — 

" Mrs. Candor, But sure you would not be quite so severe on those who 
only report Tvhat they hear ? 

" Sir P, Yes, madam, I would have Law-merchant for them too, and in 
all cases of slanoer currency,* whenever the drawer of the lie was not to 
be found, the injured party should have a right to come on any of the 
indorsers." 

Another great source of the felicities of his style, and to which 
he attended most anxiously in revision, was the choice of epi- 
thets ; in which he has the happy art of making these accessary 
words not only minister to the clearness of his meaning, but 
bring out new effects in his wit by the collateral lights which 
they strike upon it — and even where the principal idea has but 
little significance, he contrives to enliven it into point by the 
quaintness or contrast of his epithets. 

Amxong the many rejected scraps of dialogue that lie about, 
like the chippings of a Phidias, in this w^orkshop of wit, there 
are some precious enough to be preserved, at least, as relics. 
For instance, — '' She is one of those, who convey a libel in a 
frown, and wink a reputation down." The following touch of 
costume, too, in Sir Peter's description of the rustic dress of 
Lady Teazle before he married her : — " You forget when a little 
wire and gauze, with a few beads, made you a fly-cap not much 
bigger than a blue-bottle." 

The specimen which Sir Benjamhi Backbite gives of his poeti- 
cal talents was taken, it will be seen, from the following verses, 
which I find in Mr. Sheridan's hand«writing — one of those trifles, 
perhaps, with which he and his friend Tickell were in the constant 
habit of amusing themselves, and written apparently with the 
I'^^ ration of ridiculing some woman of fashion : — 

- ' Then behind, all my hair is done up in a plat, 
And so, like a cornet's, tuck'd under my hat. 

. * Then is another simile among his meraoranclams of the same mercantile kind :— . 
*• A aoit of broker in scandal, who transWs lies without fees." 



158 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

Then I moun on my palft'oy as gay as a lark, 
And, folio Vd by John, take the dust* in High Pa-k. 
In the way I am met by some smart macaroni, 
Who rides by my side on a little bay poney — 
No stuixly Hibernian, with shoulders so wide, 
But as taper and slim as the ponies they ride ; 
Their legs are as slim, and their shoulders no wider, 
Dear sweet little creatures, both poney and rider i 

But sometimes, when hotter, I order my chaise, 
And manage, myself, my two little grays. 
Sure never were seen two such sweet little ponies, 
Other horses are clow^ns, and these macai'onies, 
And to give them this title. I'm sui'e isn't AviTng, 
Their legs are so slim, and theii' tails are so long. 

In Kensington Gardens to stroll up and down. 
You know was the fashion before you left town, — 
The thing's well enough, when allowance, is made 
For the size of the trees and the depth of the shade. 
But the spread of their leaves such a shelter affords 
To those noisy, impertinent creatures called birds. 
Whose ridiculous chiiTuping ruins the scene, 
Brings the country before me, and gives me the spleen. 

Yet. tho* 'tis too rural — to come near the mark. 
We all herd in one walk, and that, nearest the Park. 
There with ease we may see, as we pass by the wicket, 
The chimneys of Knightsbridge and — footmen at cricket 
I must tho*, in justice, declare that the grass. 
Which, worn by our feet, is diminished apace, 
In a little time more wdll be brown and as flat 
As the sand at Yauxhall or as Ranelagh mat. 
Improving thus fast, perhaps, by degrees, 
We may see rolls and bu*ter spread under the trees, 
With a small pretty band in each seat of the walk, 
To play little tunes and enliven our talk.-' 

Though Mr. Sheridan appears to have made more easy pro- 
gress, after he had incorporated his two first plots into cne, yet, 
even m the details of the new plan, considerable alterations were 

• This phrase is made use of in the dialog:ue : — " As Lady Betty Curricle was taking tie 
iiwtinHvdePark." 



tllGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SSERIDAN. 159 

subsequently made — whole scenes suppressed or transposed, and 
the dialogue of some entirely re-written. In the third Act, for 
instance, as it originally stood, there was a long scene, in which 
Rowley, by a minute examination of Snake, drew from him, in 
the presence of Sir Oliver and Sir Peter, a full confession of his 
designs against the reputation of Lady Teazle. Nothbig could 
be more ill-placed and heavy ; it was accordingly cancelled, and 
the confession of Snake postponed to its natural situation, the 
conclusion. The scene, too, where Sir Oliver, as Old Stanley, 
comes to ask pecuniary aid of Joseph, was at first wholly different 
from what it is at present ; and in some parts approached much 
nearer to the confines of caricature than the watcliful taste of 
Mr. Sheridan would permit. For example, Joseph is represented 
in it as giving the old suitor only half-a-guinea, which the latter 
indignantly returns, and leaves him ; upon which Joseph, look- 
ing at the half-guinea, exclaims, " Well, let him starve — this will 
do for the opera." 

It was the fate of Mr. Sheridan, through life, — and, in a great 
degree, perhaps, liis policy, — to gain credit for excessive indo- 
lence and carelessness, while few persons, with so much natural 
brilliancy of talents, ever employed more art and circumspec- 
tion in their display. This was the case, remarkably, in the in- 
stance before us. Notwithstanding the labor which he bestowed 
upon this comedy, (or we should rather, perhaps, say in conse- 
quence of that labor,) the first representation of the piece was 
announced before the whole of the copy was in the hands 
of the actors. The manuscript, indeed, of the five last scenes 
bears evident marks of this haste in finishing. — there being but 
one rough draught of them scribbled upon detached pieces of 
paper; while, of all the preceding acts, there are numerous 
transcripts, scattered promiscuously through six or seven books, 
with new interlineations and memorandums to each. On ths 
last leaf of all, which exists just as we may suppose it to have 
been despatched by him to the copyist, there is the following 
curious specimen of doxology, written hastily, in the hand- wri- 
ting of the respective parties, at the bottom : — 



160 



MEMOiES OF THE LIFE OF THfi 



" Finished at last. Thank God ! 
" Amen ! 



" R. B. Sheridan." 
" W. Hopkins."* 



The cast of the play, on the first nfght of representation (May 

8, 1777), was as follows : — 



Sir Peter Teazle 

Sir Oliver Surface 

Joseph Surface 

Charles 

Crabtree 

Sir BcDJamin Backbite 

Rowley 

Moses 

Trip 

Snake 

Careless 

Sir Harry Bumper 

Lady Teazle . 

Maria 

Lady Sneerwell 

Mrs. Candor 



Mr, King. 
Mr. Yates. 
Mr. Palmer. 
Mr. Smith. 
Mr. Parsons, 
Mr. I)odd. 
Mr. Aickin. 
Mr. Baddeley. 
Mr. Lamash. / 
Mr. Packer. 
Mr. Far r en. 
Mr. Gawdry. 

Mrs. Ahington. 
Miss P. Hopkins 
3fiss Sherry. 
Miss Pope. 



The success of such a play, so acted, could not be doubtful. 
Long after its first uninterrupted run, it continued to be played 
regularly two or three times a week ; and a comparison of the 
receipts of the first twelve nights, with those of a later period, 
will show how little the attraction of the piece had abated by 
repetition : — 

May 8th, 1777. 

School for Scandal . 
Ditto .... 
Ditto A. B. (Author-s night) 
Ditto .... 
Ditto . . .- . 

Ditto A. B 73 10 

Committee 
School for Scandal 



£ s. 


d. 


225 9 





195 6 





73 10 
257 4 


(Expenses) 
6 


243 





73 10 





66 6 


6 


262 19 


6 



* Tlie Prompter. 



IliGHl? HON. HiCHAliD BRIKSLEY SHERIDAN. 161 



Ditto 

Ditto A. B 

Ditto K. (the King) 

Ditto 

Ditto 



263 13 6 

73 10 

272 9 6 

247 15 

255 14 



The following extracts are taken at hazard from an account of 
tlie weekly receipts of the Theatre, for the year 1778, kept with 
txamplary neatness and care by Mrs. Sheridan herself:*— 



1778. 
January 3d. Twelfth Night . 
5th. Macbeth . 
6th. Tempest . 
7th. School for Scandal 
8th. School for Fathers 
9th. School for Scandal 

March 14th. School for Scandal 
16th. Venice Preserved 
17th. Hamlet . 
19th. School for Scandal 



Queen Mab 
Queen Mab 
Queen Mab 
Oomus 
Queen Mab 
Padlock . 



£ s. d, 
139 14 6 
212 19 
107 15 6 
292 16 
181 10 6 
281 6 



Deserter . . 263 18 6 
Belphegor (New) 195 3 6 
Belphegor . . 160 19 
Belphegor . . 261 10 



' Such, indeed, was the predominant attraction of this comedy; 
during the two years subsequent to its first appearance, that, in 
the official account of receipts for 1779, we find the following 
remark subjoined by the Treasurer : — " School for Scandal 
damped the new pieces." I have traced it by the same unequivr 
ocal marks of success through the years 1780 and 1781, and find 
the nights of its representation always rivalling those on which 
the King went to the theatre, in the magnitude of their receipts. 
The following note from Garrickf to the author, dated May 

* It appears from a letter of Holcroft to Mrs. Sheridan, (given in his Memoirs, vol. i. p 
275,) that she was also in the habit of reading for Sheridan the new pieces sent in by 
dramatic candidates : — " Mrs. Crewe (he says) has spoken to Mr. Sheridan concerning 
it (the Shepherdess of the Alps), as he informed me last night, desiring me at the same 
time to send it to you, who, he said, would not only read it yourself, but remind him of 
it." 

f Murphy tells us that ilr. Garrick attended the rehearsals, and " was never known on an> 
former occasion to be more anxious for a favorite piece. He was proud of the new manager, 
and in a triumphant manner boasted of the genius to whom he had consigned the con- 
duct of the theatre."— Xife of Garrick. 



162 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

12 (four days after the first appearance of the comedy), will be 
read with interest by all those for whom the great names of the 
drama have any charm : — 

" Mr. Gajirick's best wishes and compliments to Mr. Sheri- 
dan. 

" How is the Saint to-day ? A gentleman who is as mad as 
myself about y^ School remark'd, that the characters upon the 
stage at y® falling of the screen stand too long before they speak 5 
— I thouo:ht so too y® first night : — he said it w\as the same on y* 
2"*^, and was remark'd by others ; — tho' they should be astonish'd, 
and a little petrify'd, yet it may be carry'd to too grsat a length, 
— All praise at Lord Lucan's last night." 

Tlie beauties of this Comedy are so universally known and 
felt, that criticism may be spared the trouble of dwelling upon 
them vcx-y minutely. With but little interest in the plot, with no 
very profound or ingenious development of character, and with 
a group of personages, not one of whom has any legitimate 
claims upon either our affection 01 esteem, it yet, by the admirar 
ble skill with which its materials are managed, — the happy con 
trivance of the situations, at once both natural and striking, — 
the fine feeling of the ridiculous that smiles throughout, and that 
perpetual play of wit which never tires, but seems, like run- 
ning water, to be kept fresh by its own flow, — by all this gene 
ral animation and effect, combined with a finish of the details al 
most faultless, it unites the suffrages, at once, of the refined and 
the simple, and is not less successful in ministering to the natu 
ral enjoyment of the latter, than in satisfying and delighting the 
most fastidious tastes among the former. And this is the true 
triumph of genius in all the arts, — whether in painting, sculpture, 
music, or literature, those works which have pleased the greatest 
number of people of all classes, for the longest space of time, 
may without hesitation be pronounced the best ; and, however 
mediocrity may enshrine itself in the admiration of the select 
few, the palm of excellence can only be awarded by the many. 

The defects of The School for Scandal, if they can be allowed 
to amount to defects, are. in a great measure, traceable to that 



BIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAK. 163 

amalgamation of two distinct plots, out of which, as I have al- 
ready shown, the piece was formed. From this cause, — like an 
accumulation of wealth from the union of two rich families, — 
has devolved that excessive opulence of wdt, with which, as some 
cntics think, the dialogue is overloaded ; and which Mr. Sheri- 
aan himself used often to mention, as a fault of which he was 
conscious in his work. That he had no such scruple, however, 
ill writiiig it, appears evident from the pains which he took to 
sir ng upon his new plot every bright thought and fancy which 
he had brought together for the two others ; and it is not a 
little curious, in turning over his manuscript, to see how the out- 
standing jokes are kept in recollection upon the margin, till he 
can find some opportunity of funding them to advantage in the 
text. The consequence of all this is, that the dialogue, from be- 
ginning to end, is a continued sparkling of polish and point : ano 
the whole of the Dramatis Personce might be comprised unde^ 
one common designation of Wits. Even Trip, the servant, 's 
as pointed and shining as the rest, and has his master's wit, as he 
has his birth-day clothes, " with the gloss on."* The only pei 
sonage among them that shows any " temperance in jesting," :s 
old Rowley ; and he, too, in the original, had his share in the 
general largess of hoii-mots, — one of the liveliest in the piecef be- 
ing at first given to him, though afterwards transferred, with 
somewhat more fitness, to Sir Oliver. In short, the entire Come- 
dy is a sort of El-Dorado of wit, where the precious metal is 
thrown about by all classes, as carelessly as if they had not the 
least idea of its value. 

Another blemish that hypercriticism has noticed, and which 
may likewise be traced to the original conformation of the play, 
is the uselessness of some of the characters to the action or 
business of it — almost the whole of the " Scandalous College" 

* This is one of the phrases that seem to have perplexed the taste of Sheridan, — and 
upon so minute a point, as, whether it should be " with the gloss on,-' or, " with the gloss 
on them." After various trials of it in both ways, he decided, as mi^ht be expected 
from his love of idiom, for the former. 

t The answer *o the remark, that " charit>' begins at home," — " and his, I presume, 
IS of ihpt domestic sort which never stirs abroad at all." 



164 MEMOtRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

being but, as it were, excrescences, through which none of the 
life-blood of the plot circulates. The cause of this is evident : 
— Sir Benjamin Backbite, in the first plot to which he belonged, 
"was a principal personage ; but, being transplanted from thence 
into one with which he has no connection, not only he, but his 
uncle Q^abtree, and Mrs. Candor, though contributing abund^^nt- 
Ij to the animation of the dialogue, have hardly anything 30 do 
with the advancement of the story ; and, like the accessories in 
a Greek drama, are but as a sort of Chorus of Scandal chrough- 
out. That this defect, or rather peculiarity, should have been 
observed at first, when criticism was freshly on the watch for 
food, is easily conceivable ; and I have been told by a friend, 
who was in the pit on the first night of performance, that a per- 
5on, who sat near him, said impatiently, during the famous scene 
.ac Lady Sneerwell's, in the Second Act, — " I wish these people 
would have done talking, and let the play begin." 

It has often been rem.arked as singular, that the lovers, Charles 
and Maria, should never be bi'ought in presence of each other 
till the last scene ; and Mr. Sheridan used to say, that he was 
aware, in writing the Comedy, of the apparent want of dramatic 
management which such an omission would betray ; but that 
neither of the actors, for whom he had destined those characters, 
was such as he could safely trust with a love scene. ' There 
mighty perhaps, too, have been, in addition to this motive, a lit- 
tle consciousness, on his own part, of not being exactly in his 
-element in that tender style of writing, which such a scene, ^;0 
make it worthy of the rest, would have required ; and of which 
the specimens left us in the serious parts of The Rivals are cer- 
tainly not among his most felicitous efforts. 

By some critics the incident of the screen has been censured, 
as a contrivance unworthy of the dignity of comedy."^' But m 
real life, of which comedy must condescend to be the copy, 

* " In the old comedy, the catastroplie is occasioned, in general, by a change in tho 
mind of some principal character, artfully prepared and cautiously conducted ; — in the 
modern, the unfolding of the plot is effected by the overturning of a screen, the opening 
•of a door, or some other equally digniiied machine." — Gifford, Essay on the Writings of 
Massinger. 



RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 1G5 

events of far greater importance are brought about by accidents 
as trivial ; and in a world like ours, where the falling of an ap- 
ple has led to the discovery of the laws of gravitation, it is sure- 
ly too fastidious to deny to the dramatist the discovery of an 
intrigue by the falling of a screen. There is another objection 
as to the manner of employing this machine, which, though less 
grave, is perhaps less easily ansvrered. Joseph, at the com- 
mencement of the scene, desires his servant to draw the screen 
before the window, because " his opposite neighbor is a maiden 
lady of so anxious a temper';'' yet, afterwards, by placing Lady 
Teazle between the screen and the window, he enables this in- 
quisitive lady to indulge her curiosity at leisure. It might be 
said, indeed, that Joseph, with the alternative of exposure to 
either the husband or neighbor, chooses the lesser evil ; — but 
the oversight hardly requires a defence. 

From the trifling nature of these objections to the dramatic 
merits of the School for Scandal, it will be seen, that, like the 
criticism of Momus on the creaking of Venus's shoes, they only 
show how perfect must be the work in which no greater faults 
can be found. But a more serious charge has been brought 
against it on the score of morality, and the gay charm thrown 
around the irregularities of Charles is pronounced to be dan- 
gerous to the interests of honesty and virtue. There is no 
doubt that in this character only the fairer side of libertinism is 
presented, — that the merits of being in debt are rather too fond- 
ly insisted upon, and with a grace and spirit that might seduce 
even creditors into admiration. It was, indeed, playfully said, 
that no tradesman who applauded Charles could possibly have 
the face to dun the author afterwards. In looking, however, to 
the race of rakes that had previously held possession of the 
stage, we cannot help considering our release from the contagion 
of so much coarseness and selfishness to be worth even the in- 
creased risk of seduction that may have succeeded to it ; and 
the remark of Burke, however questionable in strict ethics, is, 
at least, true on the stage.— that " vice loses half its evil by 
losing all its grossness," 



166 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

It should be recollected, too, that, in other respects, the author- 
applies the lash of moral satii^e very successfully. That group 
of slanderers who, like the Chorus of the Eumenides, go search- 
ing about for their prey with " eyes that drop poison," represent 
a class of persons m society who richly deserve such ridicule, 
and who — like their prototypes in iEschylus trembling before 
the shafts of Apollo — are here made to feel the full force of tlie 
archery of wit. It is indeed a proof of the effect and use of sucli 
satire, that the name of "Mrs. Candor" has become one of 
those formidable bye-words, which have more power m puttmg 
folly and ill-nature out of countenance, than whole volumes of 
the w^isest remonstrance and reasonmg. 

The poetical justice exercised upon the TartufFe of sentiment, 
Joseph, is another service to the cause of morals, which should 
more than atone for any dangerous embellishment of wrong that 
the portraiture of the younger brother may exhibit. Indeed, 
though both these characters are such as the moralist must visit 
with his censure, there can belittle doubt to which we should, iii 
real life, give the preference ; — the levities and errors of the one, 
arising from warmth of heart and of youth, may be merely like 
those mists that exhale from summer streams, obscuring them 
awhile to the eye, without affecting the native purity of their 
waters ; while the hypocrisy of the other is like the mirage of 
the desert, shining with promise on the surface, but all false and 
barren beneath. 

In a late work, professing to be the Memoirs of Mr. Sheridan, 
there are some wise doubts expressed as to his being really the 
author of the School for Scandal, to which, except for the pur 
pose of exposing absurdity, I should not have thought it worth 
while to allude. It is an old trick of Detraction, — and one, of 
which it never tires, — to father the works of eminent writers 
upon others; or, at least, while it kindly leaves an author the 
credit of his worst performances, to find some one in the back- 
ground to ease him of the fame of his best. When this sort of 
charge is brought against a cotemporary, the motive is intelligi- 
ble ; but, such an abstract pleasure have some persons in merely 



RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 16T 

UTTf^-ttfiiig tne orownp o " Fame, that a worthy German has writ- 
ten an elaborate book to prove, that the Iliad was written, not by 
that particular Homer the world supposes, but by some other 
Homer ! Indeed, if mankind were to be influenced by those Qui 
tarn critics, who have, from time to time, in the course of the 
history of literature, exhibited informations of plagiarism against 
great authors, the property of fame would pass from its present 
holders into the hands of persons with whom the world is but 
little acquainted. Aristotle must refund to one Ocellus Lucanus 
-- -Virgil must make a cessio honorum in favor of Pisander — the 
Metamorphoses of Ovid must be credited to the account of Par- 
lihenius of Nica^a, and (to come to a modern instance) Mr. She- 
ridan must, according to Ills biographer, Dr. Watkins, surrender 
v'-iC glory of having written the School for Scandal to a certain 
anonymous young lady, who died of a consumption in Thames 
Street ! 

To pass, however, to less hardy assailants of the originality of 
this comedy, — it is said that the characters of Joseph and 
Charles were suggested by those of Bliiil and Tom Jones ; that the 
incident of the arrival of Sir Oliver from India is copied from 
that of the return of Warner in Sidney Biddulph ; and that the 
hint of the flimous scandal scene at Lady Sneerwell's is borrow- 
ed from a comedy of Moliere. 

Mr. Sheridan, it is true, like all men of genius, had, in addition 
to the resources of his own wit, a quick apprehension of what 
suited his purpose in the wit of others, and a power of enr Idling 
whatever he adopted from them with such new grace, as gave 
him a sort of claim of paternity over it, and made it all his own. 
" C'est mon bien," said Moliere, when accused of borrowing, 
" et je le reprens partout ou je le trouve *," and next, indeed, to 
creation, the re-production, in a new and more perfect form, of 
materials already existing, or the full development of thoughts 
that had but half blown in the hands of others, are the noblest 
miracles for wnich we look to the hand of genius. It is not my 
intention therefore to defend Mr. Sheridan from this kind of pla- 
giarism, of which he was guilty in common with the rest of his 



168 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

fellow-descendants from Prometheus, who aJ steal the spaik 
wherever they can find it. But the instances, just alleged, of 
his obligations to others, are too questionable and trivial to be 
taken into any serious account. Contrasts of character, such as 
Charles and Joseph exhibit, are as common as the lights and 
shadows of a landscape, and belong neither to Fielding nor She- 
ridan, but to nature. It is in the manner of transferring them 
to the canvas that the whole difference between the master and 
the copyist lies; and Charles and Joseph would, no doubt, have 
been what thev are, if Tom Jones had never existed. With 
respect to the hint supposed to be taken from the novel of Ms 
mother, he at least had a right to consider any aid from that 
quarter as "son bien" — talent being the only patrimony U* 
which he had succeeded. But the use made of the return of h 
relation in the play is wholly different fvom that to which the 
Siime incident is applied in the novel. Besides, in those golden 
times of Indian delinquency, the arrival of a wealthy relative 
from the East was no very unobvious ingredient in a story. 

The imitation of Moliore (if, as I take for granted, the Misan- 
thrope be the play, in which the origin of the famous S'iand?! 
scene is said to be found) is equally faint and remote, and, ex2ept 
in the common point of scandal, untraceable. Nothing, indeed, 
can be more unlike than the manner in which the two scenes are 
managed. Celimene, in Moliere, bears the whole /raz5 of the 
conversation ; and this female La Bruyere's tedious and solitary 
dissections of character would be as little borne on the English 
stage, as the quick and dazzling movement of so many lancets of 
wit as operate in the School for Scandal would be tolerated on 
that of the French. 

It is frequently said that Mr. Sheridan was a good deal in- 
debted to Wycherley ; and he himself gave, in some degree, a 
color to the charge, by the suspicious impatience which he be. 
traved whenever anv allusion was nlade to it. He went so far, 
indeed, it is said, as to deny ha^dng ever read a line of Wycherley 
(though of Vanbrugh's dialogue he ahvays spoke with the warmest 
admiration) ; — and this assertion, as v/ell as some others equally 



RIGHT HO]S\ RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAK. 169 

remarkable, such as, that he never saw Garrick on the stage, that 
he never had seen a play throughout m his life, however strange 
and startling they may appear, are, at least, too curious and cha- 
racteristic not to be put upon record. His acquaintance with 
Wycherley was possibly but at second-hand, and confined, per- 
haps, to Garrick's alteration of the Country Wife, in which the 
incident, already mentioned as having been borrowed for the 
Duenna, is preserved. There is, however, a scene in the Plain 
Dealer (Act II.), where Nevil and Olivia attack the characters of 
the persons with whom Nevil had dined, of which it is difficult 
to believe that Mr. Sheridan was ignorant : as it seems to con- 
tain much of that Hyle^ or First Matter, out of which his own 
more perfect creations were formed. 

In Congreve's Double Dealer, too, (Act III. Scene 10) there is 
much which may. at least, have mixed itself with the recollec- 
tions of Sheridan, and influenced the course of his fancy — it being 
often found that the imxages with which the memory is furnished, 
like those pictures hung up before the eyes of pregnant women 
at Sparta, produce insensibly a likeness to themselves in the 
offspring which the imagination brings forth. The admirable 
droUerv in Con^reve about Ladv Froth's verses on her coach- 

man — 

" For as the sun shines every day, 
So of our coachman I may say ^' — 

is by no means unlikely to have suggested the doggerel of Sir 
Benjafnin Backbite ; and the scandalous conversation in this 
scene, though far inferior in delicacy and ingenuity to that of 
Sheridan, has somewhat, as the reader will see, of a parental 
resemblance to it : — 

" Lord Froth. Hee, hee, my dear ; have you done ? Won't you join with 
us ? We were laughing at ray lady Whifler and Mr. Sneer. 

" Lady F. Aj, my dear, were you ? Oh, filthy Mr. Sneer ! he is a nau- 
seous figure, a most fulsamlck fop. He spent two days together in going 
about Covent Garden to suit the lining of his coach with his complexion. 

'^ Ld. F. Oh, sillyi yet his aunt is as fond of him, as if she bad brought 
the ape into the world herself. 

VOL. I. 8 



170 MEMOIBS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

'' Brisk. Who? my Lady Toothless? Oh, she is a mortifying spectacle ; 
she's always chewing the cud like an old ewe. 

'' Ld. F. Then she\s always ready to laugh, when Sneer offers to speak ; 
and sits in expectation of his no jest, with her gums bare, and her mouth 
open — 

•'* Brisk. Like an oyster at low ebb, egad — ha, ha, ha ! 

^'Cynthia. (Aside.) Well, I find there are no fools so inconsiderable them- 
selves, but they can render other people contemptible by exposing theii 
infirmities. 

*•' Lady F. Then that t'other great strapping Lady — I can't hit off her 
name : the old fat fool, that paints so exorbitantly. 

" Brisk. I know whom you mea.n — but. deuce take her, I can't hit off her 
name either — paints, d'ye say ? Why she lays it on with a trowel. Then 
she has a great beard that bristles through it, and makes her look, as if she 
was plastered with lime and hair, let me perish.'^ 

It would be a task not uninteresting, to enter into a detailed 
comparison of the characteristics and merits of Mr. Sheridan, as 
a dramatic writer, with those of the other great masters of the 
art ; and to consider how far they difiered or agreed with each 
other, in the structure of their plots and management of their 
dialogue — in the mode of laying the train of their repartee, or 
pointmg the artillery of their wit. But I have already devoted 
to this part of my subject a much ampler space, than to some of 
my readers will appear either necessary or agreeable ; — though 
by others, more interested in such topics, my diffuseness will, 1 
trust, be readily pardoned. In tracking Mr. Sheridan through 
his too distinct careers of literature and of politics, it is on the 
highest point of his elevation in each that the eye naturally rests ; 
and the School for Scandal in one, and the Begum speeches in 
the other, are the two grand heights — the *' summa biverticis um- 
bra Parnassi^^'^ — from which he will stand out to after times, and 
round which, therefore, his biographer may be excused for lin- 
gering with most fondness and delay. 

It appears singular that, during the life of Mr. Sheridan, no 
authorized or correct edition of this play should have been pub- 
lished in England. He had, at one time, disposed of the copy- 
right to Mr. Ridgway of Piccadilly, but, after repeated applica- 
tions from the latter for the manuscript, he was told by Mr 



RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 171 

Sheridan, as an excuse for keeping it back, that he had been nine^ 
teen years endeavoring to satisfy himself with the style of the 
School for Scandal, but had not yet succeeded. Mr. Ridgway, 
upon this, ceased to give him any further trouble on the sub 
ject. 

The edition printed in Dublin is, with the exception of a few 
unimportant omissions and verbal differences, perfectly correct. 
It appears that, after the success of the comedy in London, he 
presented a copy of it to his eldest sister, Mrs. Lefanu, to be 
disposed of, for her own advantage, to the manager of the Dub- 
lin Theatre. The sum of a hundred guineas, and free admissions 
for her family, were the terms upon which Ryder, the manager 
at that period, purchased from this lady the right of acting the 
play ; and it was from the copy thus procured that the edition 
afterwards published in Dublin w^as printed. I have collated 
this edition with the copy given by Mr. Sheridan to Lady Crewe 
(the last, I believe, ever revised by himself),* and find it, with 
the few exceptions already mentioned, correct throughout. 

The School for Scandal has b^een translated into most of the 
languages of Europe, and, among the French particularly, has un- 
dergone a variety of metamorphoses. A translation, undertaken, 
it appears, with the permission of Sheridan himself, was pub- 
lished in London, in the year 1789, by a Monsieur Bunell De- 
lille, who, in a dedication to " Milord Macdonald," gives the fol- 
low^mg account of the origin of his task : " Vous savez, Milord, 
de quelle maniere mysterieuse cette piece, qui n'a jamais ete im- 
prime que furtivement, se trouva I'ete dernier sur ma table, en 
manuscrit, in-folio ; et, si .vous daignez vous le rappeler, apres 



♦ Among the corrections in this copy (which are in his own hand- writing, and but few 
in number), there is one which shows not only the retentiveness of his memory, but the 
minute attention which he paid to the structure of his sentences. Lady Teazle, in her 
scene with Sir Peter in the Second Act, says " That's very true, indeed, Sir Peter ; and, 
after having married ycu, I should never pretend to taste again, I allow." It was thus 
tha-- ^he passage stood at first in Lady Crewe's copy, — as it does still, too, in the Dublin 
edition, and in that given in the Colltcti.-:r of his W-'-ks, — but in his final revision of this 
copy, the original reading of the sentence, such as I nnd it in all his earlier manuscripts 
of the play, is restored. — "That's very true, indeed. Sir Peter ; and, after having married 
you, I am sure I should never pretend to taste again " 



172 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

vous avoir fait part de I'aventure, je courus chez Monsieur Sheri- 
dan pour lui demander la permission," &c. <Sz;c. 

The scenes of the Auction and the Screen were introduced, 
for the first time, I believe, on the French stage, in a little piece 
called, " Les Deux Nemiix^'^ acted in the year 1788, by the young 
comedians of the Comte de Beaujolais. Since then, the story 
has been reproduced under various shapes and names : — " Les 
Portraits de Famille," " Valsain et Florville," and, at the Thea- 
tre Fran^ais, under the title of the " Tartuffe de Moeurs." Late- 
ly, too, the taste for the subject has revived. The Vaudeyille 
has founded upon it a successful piece, called " Les Deux Cou- 
sins ;" and there is even a melodrame at the Porte St. Martiu 
entitled " L'Ecole du Scandale." 



UIGHT nOK. RICHARD BRIKSLEY SHERIDAK. 1?3 



CHAPTER VI. 

FL^RTHER PURCRiSE OF THEATRICAL PROPERTY. — MON- 
ODY TO THE MEMORY OF GARRICK. — ESSAY ON ME- 
TRE. — THE CRITIC. — ESSAY ON ABSENTEES. — POLITI- 
CAL CONNECTIONS. — THE *^ ENGLISHMAN." — ELECTED 
FOR STAFFORD. 

The document in Mr. Sheridan's handwriting, already men- 
tioned, from wjiich I have stated the sums paid in 1776 by him, 
Dr. Ford, and Mr. Linley, for Garrick's moiety of the Drury 
Lane Theatre, thus mentions the new purchase, by which he ex 
tended his interest in this property in the year 1778 : — " Mr. 
Sheridan afterwards was obliged to buy Mr. Lacy's moiety at a 
price exceeding 45,000Z. : this was in the year 1778." He then 
adds — what it may be as well to cite, while I have the paper be- 
fore me, though relating to subsequent changes in the property : 
— " In order to enable Mr. S. to complete this purpose, he after- 
wards consented to divide his original share between Dr. Ford 
and Mr. Linley, so as to make up each of theirs a quarter. But 
the price at which they purchased from Mr. Sheridan was not at 
the rate which he bought from Lacy, though at an advance on 
the price paid to Gar rick. Mr. S. has since purchased Dr. Ford's 
quarter for the sum of 17,000/., subject to the increased incum- 
biancs of the additional renters." 

By what spell all these thousands were conjured up, it would 
be difficult accurately to ascertain. That happy art^ — in which 
the people of this country are such adepts — of putting the future 
in pawn for the supply of the present, must have been the chief 
»3Soarc^. of Mr. Sheridan in all these later purchases. 

Among the visible signs of his increased influence in the affairs 



174 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

of the theatre, was the appointment, this year, of his father to 
be manager ; — a reconciliation havmg taken place between them, 
which was facilitated, no doubt, by the brightening prospects of 
the son, and by the generous confidence which his prosperity 
gave him in making the first advances towards such a reunion. 

One of the novelties of the year was a musical entertainment 
called The Camp, which was falsely attributed to Mr. Sheridan 
at the time, and has since been inconsiderately admitted into the 
Collection of his Works. This unworthy trifle (as appears from 
a rough copy of it in my possession) was the production of Tick- 
ell, and the patience with which his friend submitted to the im- 
putation of having ^vritten it was a sort of " martyrdom of fame" 
which few but himself could afford. 

At the beginning of the year 1779 Gar rick died, and Sheridan, 
as chief mourner, followed him to the grave. He also wrote a 
Monody to his memory, which was delivered by Mrs. Yates, 
after the play of the West Indian, in the month of March follow- 
ing. During the interment of Garrick in Poet's Corner, Mr. 
Burke had remarked that the statue of Shakspeare seemed to 
point to the grave where the great actor of his works was laid. 
This hint did not fall idly on the ear of Sheridan, as the follow- 
ing fixation of the thought, in the verses which he afterwards 
wrote, proved : — 

** The throng that mourii'd, as their dead favorite pass'd, 
The grac'd respect that claim'd hira to the la.st ; 
While Shakspeare-s image, fTom its hallow'd ])ase, 
Seem'd to prescribe the grave and point the phace." 

This Monody, which was the longest flight ever sustained by 
its author in verse, is more remarkable, perhaps, for refinement 
and elegance, than for either novelty of tffought or depth of sen- 
timent. There is, however, a fine burst of poetical eloquence in 
the lines beginning " Superior hopes the poet's bosom fire ;" and 
this passage, accordingly, as being the best in the poem, was, by 
the gossiping critics of the day, attributed to Tickell, — from the 
same laudable motives that had induced them to attribute Tickell'a 
bad farce to Sheridan. There is no end to the variety of these 



RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 175 

siiiall missiles of malice, with which the Gullivers of the world 
of literature are assailed b j the Lilliputians around them. 

The chief thought which pervades this poem, — namely, the 
fleeting nature of the actor's art and fame,— had already been 
more simply expressed by Garrick himself in his Prologue to 
The Clandestine Marriage : — 

^' The painter's dead, yet still he charms the eye ; 
While England Hygs, his fame can never die ; 
Bat he, who struts his hour upon the stage, 
Can scarce protract his fame through half an age ; 
Nor pen nor pencil can the actor save ; 
The art and artist have one common grave." 

Colley Gibber, too, in his portrait (if I remember right) of 
Betterton, breaks off into the same reflection, in the following 
graceful passage, which is one of those instances, where prose 
could not be exchanged for poetry without loss : — " Pity it is 
that the momentary beauties, flowing from an harmonious elo- 
cution, cannot, like those of poetry, be their own record ; that 
the animated graces of the player can live no longer than the 
in|tant breath and motion that presents them, or, at best, can 
but faintly glimmer through the memory of a few surviving 
spectators." 

With respect to the style and versification of the Monody, the 
heroic couplet in which it is written has long been a sort of 
Ulysses' bow, at which Poetry tries her suitors, and at which they 
almost all fail. Redundancy of epithet and monotony of cadence 
are the inseparable companions of this metre in ordinary hands ; 
nor could all the taste and skill of Sheridan keep it wholly free 
from these defects in his own. To the subject of metre, he had, 
nevertheless, paid great attention. There are among his papers 
some fragments of an Essay^ which he had commenced, on the 

* Or rather memorandums collected, as was his custom, with a view to the composition 
of such an Essay. He had been reading the writings of Dr. Foster, Webb, &c. on this 
subject, with the intention, apparently, of publishing an answer to them. The following 
(which is one of the few consecutive passages I can find in these notes) will show how 
little reverence lie entertained for that ancient prosody, upon which, in the iystem of 
English education, so large and precious a portion of hurfian life is wasted . — " I never de- 



176 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

nature of poetical accent and emphasis ; and the adaptation of 
his verses to the airs in the Duenna — even allowing for the aid 
which he received from Mrs. Sheridan — shows a degree of mu- 
sical feeling, from which a much greater variety of cadence 
might be expected, than we find .throughout the versification of 
this poem. The taste of the time, however, was not prepared 
for any great variations in the music of the couplet. The regular 
foot-fall, established so long, had yet been but little disturbed ; 
and the only license of this kind hazarded through the poem — 
" All perishable " — was objected to by some of the author's 
critical friends, who suggested, that it would be better thus : 
" All doom'd to perish." 

Whatever in more important points miay be the inferiority of 

sire a stronger proof that an author is on a wrong scent on these subjects, than to see 
Quintilian, Aristotle, &c., quoted on a point where they have not the least business. All 
poetry is made by the ear, which must be the sole judge — it is a sort of musical rhyth- 
mus. If then we want to reduce our practical harmony to rules, every man, with a 
knowledge of his o\\ti language and a good ear, is at once competent to the undertaking. 
Let him trace it to music — if he has no knowledge, let him inquire. 

" We have lost all notion of the ancient accent ; — we have lost their pronunciation ; — all 
puzzling about it is ridiculous, and trying to find out the melody of our own verse by theirs 
is still worse. We should have had all our own metres, if we never had heard a word of 
their language, — this I affirm. Every nation finds out for itself a national melody ; and 
we may say of it, as of religion, no place has been discovered without music. A people, 
likewise, as their language improves, will mtroduce a music into their poetry, which is 
simply (that is to say, the numerical part of poetry, which must be distinguished 
from the imaginary) the transferring the time of melody into speaking. What then have 
the Greeks or Romans to do with our music ? It is plain tliat our admiration of their 
verse is mere pedantry, because we could not adopt it. Sir Philip Sidney failed. If it 
had been melody, we should have had it ; our language is just as well calculated for it. 

''It is astonishing that the excessive ridiculousness of a Gradus or Prosodial Diction- 
ary has never struck our scholars. The idea of looking into a book to see whether the 
sound of a syllable be short or long is absolutely as much a bull of Boeotian pedantry as 
ever disgraced Ireland." He Ih^n adds, with reference to some mistakes which Dr. Fos- 
ter ha.d appeared to him to have committed in his accentuation of English woVds : — 
"What strange effects has this system brought about ! It has so corrupted the ear, that 
absolutely our scholars cannot tell an English long syllable from a short one. If a boy 
were to make the a in ' cano' or ' amo' long, Dr. F. wouki no doubt feel his ear hurt, 
and yet ****** * *•" 

Of the style in which some of his observations are committed to vaper, the following is 
a curious specimen : — " Dr. Foster says that short syllables, when inflated with that em- 
phasis which the sense demands, swell in height, length, and breadth beyond iheir natural 
size. — ^The devil they do I Here is a most omnipotent power in emphasis. Quantity and 
accent m.ay in vain toil to produce a little effect, but emphasis comes at once and mono- 
polizee the power of them both." 



EIGHT HON. RICHARD BBINSLEY SHERIDAN. 177 

the present school of poetry to that which preceded it, in the 
music of versification there can be but little doubt of its im- 
provement ; nor has criticism, perhaps, ever rendered a greater 
service to the art, than in helping to unseal the ears of its wor- 
shippers to that true spheric harmony of the elders of song, which, 
during i\ long period of our literature, was as imheard as if it 
never existed. 

The Monody does not seem to have kept the stage more than 
five or six nights ; — nor is this surprising. The recitation of a 
long, serious address must always be, to a certain degree, in- 
effective on the stage ; and, though this subject contained within 
it many strong sources of interest, as well personal as dramatic, 
they were not, perhaps, turned to account by the poet with 
sufficient warmth and earnestness on his own part, to excite a 
very ready response of sympathy in others. Feeling never 
wanders into generalities — it is only by concentrating his rays 
upon one point that even Genius can kindle strong emotion; 
and, in order to produce any such eflTect in the present in- 
stance upon the audience, Garrick himself ought to have been 
kept prominently and individually before their eyes in almost 
every line. Instead of this, however, the man is soon forgotten 
in his Art, which is then deliberately compared with other Arts, 
and the attention, through the greater part of the poem, is diffused 
over the transitoriness of actors in general, instead of being 
brought strongly to a focus upon the particular loss just sustained. 
Even in those parts which apply most directly to Garrick, the 
feeling is a good deal diluted by this tendency to the abstract ; 
and, sometimes, by a false taste of personification, like that in the 
very first line, — 

" K dying ^.xcellence deserves a tear,'' 
where the substitution of a q^iality of the man for the man him- 
self* puts the mhid, as it were, one remove farther from the 

* Another instance of this fault occurs in his song " When sable Night :" — 
'■'■ As some fond mother, o'er her babe deploring, 
* Wakes its heauty with a tear ;" 

where the clearness and reality of the picture are spoiled by the affectation of represent- 
ing the heaufy of tl.3 child as waked, instead of the chi'd itself. 

VOL.1. 8* 



178 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE • 

substantial object of its interest, and disturbs that sense of 
reality, on which the operations even of Fancy itself ought to be 
founded. 

But it is very easy to play the critic — so easy as to be a task 
of but little glory. For one person who could produce such a 
poem as this, how many thousands exist and have existed, who 
could shine in the exposition of its faults ! Though insufficient, 
perhaps, in itself, to create a reputation for an author, yet, as a 
" Stella CoroncB^'' — one of the stars in that various crow^n, which 
marks the place of Sheridan in the firmament of Fame, — it not 
only well sustains its own part in the lustre, but draws new light 
from the host of brilliancy around it. 

It was in the course of this same year that he produced the 
entertainment of the Critic — his last leo;itimate offering on the 
shrine of the Dramatic Muse. In this admirable farce we have 
a striking instance of that privilege which, as I have already said. 
Genius assumes, of taking up subjects that had passed through 
other hands, and giving them a new value and currency by his 
stamp. The plan of a Rehearsal was first adopted for the pur- 
pose of ridiculing Dry den, by the Duke of Buckingham ; but, 
though there is much laughable humor in some of the dialogue 
between Bayes and his friends, the salt of the satire altogether 
was not of a very conservative nature, and the piece continued 
to be served up to the public long after it had lost its relish. 
Fielding tried the same plan in a variety of pieces — in his Pas- 
quin, his Historical Register, his Author's Farce, his Eurydice, 
&c., — ^but without much success, except in the comedy of Pas- 
quin, which had, I believe, at first a prosperous career, though it 
has since, except with the few that still read it for its fine tone of 
pleasantry, fallen into oblivion. It was --eserved for Sheridan to 
give vitality to this form of dramatic humor, and to invest 
even his satirical portraits — as in the instance of Sir Fretful 
Plagiary, w^hich, it is well kno^vn, was designed for Cumberland — 
with a generic character, wdiich, without weakening the particular 
resemblance, makes them represer Natives for ever of the* whole 
class to which the origui/il belongeu. Bayes, on the contrary, is 



RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. l79 

a caricature — made up of little more than personal peculiarities, 
which may amuse as long as reference can be had to the proto- 
type, but, like those supplemental features furnished from the 
living subject by Taliacocius, fall lifeless th§ moment the indi- 
vidual that supplied them is defunct. 

It is evident, however, that Bayes was not forgotten in the 
composition of The Critic. . His speech, where the two Kings of 
Brentford are singing in the clouds, may be considered as the 
exemplar which Sheridan had before him in writing some of the 
rehearsal scenes of Puff: — ; 

" Smith, Well, but methinks the sense of this song is not very plain. 

'' Bayes. Plain ! why did you ever hear any people in the clouds sing 
plain? They must be all for flight of fa^^cy at its fullest range, without 
the least check or control upon it. When once you tie up spirits and peo- 
ple in clouds to speak plain, you spoil all." 

There are particular instances of imitation still more direct. 
Thus in The Critic : 

^^ Enter Sm Walter Raleigh ayid Sir Curistopher Hatton. 
*' Sir Christ. H. True, gallant; Raleigh.— 
" Bangle. A\Tiat, had they been talking before ? 
" Puff. Oh yes, all the way as they came along.-' 

In the same manner in The Rehearsal, where the Physician 
and Usher of the two Kings enter : — 

" Phys. Sir, to conclude — 
" Smith. What, before he begins ? 

" Bayes. No, Sir, you must know they had been talking of this a pretty 
while without. 
'• Smith. AVhere? in the tyring room? 
" Bayes. Why, ay, Sir. He's so dull." 

Bayes, at the opening of the Fifth Act, says, " Now, gentle- 
men, I will be bold to say, I'll show you the greatest scene tnac 
England ever saw ; I mean not for words, for those I don't value, 
but for state, show, and magnificence." Puff announces his 
grand scene in much the same manner : — " Now then for my 
magnificenoe ! my battle ! my noise ! and my procession !" 



180 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

In Fielding, too, we find numerous hints or germs, that have 
come to their full growth of wit in The Ciitic. For instance, in 
Trap wit (a character in " Pasquin") there are the rudiments of 
Sir Fretful as well as of Puff : — 

" SneerioelL Yes, Mth, I think I would cut that last speech. 

'^ Trapwit. Sir, I'll sooner cut oflf an ear or two ; Sir, that's the very 
best thing in the whole play ***** 
* * * ***** 

*• Trapwit. Now, Mr. Sneerwell, we shall begin my third and last act ; 
and I believe I may defy all the poets who have ever writ, or ever will 
write, to produce its equal : it is, Sir, so crammed with drums and trum- 
pets, thunder and lightning, battles and ghosts, that I believe the audience 
will want no entertainment after it.'' 

The manager, Marplay, in " The Author's Farce," like him of 
Drury Lane in the Critic, '* does the town the honor of writing 
himself;" and the following incident in " The Historical Register" 
suggested possibly the humorous scene of Lord Burleigh : — 

" Enter Four Patriots from different Doors, who meet in the 
centre and shake Hands. 

" Sour-wit, These patriots seem to equal your greatest politicians in theii 
silence. 

'' Medley. Sir, what they think now cannot well be spoke, but you may 
conjecture a good deal from their shaking their heads." 

Such coincidences, whether accidental or designed, are at least 
curious, and the following is another of somewhat a different 
kind : — '' Steal ! (says Sir Fretful) to be sure they may ; and 
egad, serve your best thoughts as gipsies do stolen children, dis- 
figure them, to make 'em pass for their own."* Churchill has 
the same idea in nearly the same language : — 

" Still pilfers wretched plans and makes them worse, 
Like gipsies, lest the stolen brat be known, 
Defacing first, then claiming for their own." 

The character of Puff, as I have already shown, was our au 

* This simile wag again made use of by him in a speech upon ilr. Pitt's India Bill, wliicl- 
he declared to be " nothing mere than a bad plagiarism on Mr. Fox's, disfigured, indeed 
as gipsies do stolen children, in order to make them pass for their own." 



ftlGHT H0:N'. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 181 

thor's first dramatic attempt ; and, having left it unfinished in 
the porch as he entered the temple of Comedy, he now, we see, 
made it worthy of being his farewell oblation in quitting it. 
Like Eve's flowers, it was his 

" Early visitation, and Ms last." 

We must not, however, forget a lively Epilogue which h« 
wrote this year, for Miss Hannah More's tragedy of Fatal False- 
hood, in which there is a description of a blue-stocking lady, exe- 
cuted with all his happiest point. Of this dense, epigrammatic 
style, in which every line is a cartridge of wit in itself, Sheridan 
was, both in prose and verse, a consummate master ; and if any 
one could hope to succeed, after Pope, in a Mock Epic, founded 
upon fashionable life, it would have been, we should think, the 
writer of this epilogue. There are some verses, written on the 
" Immortelle Emilie"''' of Voltaire, in which her employments, as 
a savante and a woman of the world, are thus contrasted : — 

" Tout lui plait, tout convient a son vaste genie, 
Les livTcs, les bijoux, les compas, les poinponSf 
Les verSy les diamans, les beribis, Vopiique, 
Valgebre, les soupers, le Latin, les jupons, 
Vopira, les proces, le bal^ et la pjhysique.''^ 

How powerfully has Sheridan, in bringing out the same con- 
trasts, shown the difference between the raAV material of a 
thought, and the fine fabric as it comes from the hands of a 
workman : — 

'^ What motley cares Gorilla's mind perplex, 
Whom maids and metaphors conspire to vex ! 
In studious deshabille behold her sit, 
A lettered gossip and a housewife wit : 
At once invoking, though for different views, 
Her gods, her cook, her milliner, and muse. 
Round her strewed room a fiippery chaos lies, 
A chequered wreck of notable and wise. 
Bills, books, caps, couplets, combs, a varied mass, 
Oppress the toilet and obscui'e the glass ; 



182 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

Unfinisli'd here an epigram is laid, 

And there a mantiia-maker's bill unpaid. 

There new-born plays foretaste the town's applause, 

There dormant patterns pine for future gauze. 

A moral essay now is all her care, 

A satire next, and then a bill of fare. 

A scene she now projects, and now a dish, 

Here Act the First, and here ' Remove with Fish.' 

Now, while this eye in a fine frenzy rolls, 

That soberly casts up a bill for coals ; 

Black pins and daggers in one leaf she sticks, 

And tears, and threads, and bowls, and thimbles mix.'* 

We must now prepare to follow the subject of this Memo! if 
into a field of display, altogether different, where he was in turn 
to become an actor before the public himself, and where, instead 
of inditing lively speeches for others, he was to deliver the diG 
tates of his eloquence and wit from liis own lips. However the 
lovers of the drama may lament this diversion of his talents, 
and doubt whether even the chance of another School for Scan- 
dal were not worth more than all his subsequent career, yet to 
the individual himself, full of ambition, and conscious of versa- 
tility of powers, such an opening into a new course of action and 
fame, must have been like one of those sudden turnings of the 
road in a beautiful country, which dazzle the eyes of a traveller 
with new glories, and invite him on to untried paths of fertility 
and sunshine. 

It has been before remarked how early, in a majority of in- 
stances, the dramatic talent has come to its fullest maturity. 
Mr. Sheridan would possibly never have exceeded what he had 
already done, and his celebrity had now reached that point of 
elevation, where, by a sort of optical deception in the atmos- 
phere of fame, to remain stationary is to seem, in the eyes of 
the spectators, to fall. He had, indeed, enjoyed only the tri- 
umphs of talent, and without even descending to those ovations, 
or minor triumphs, which in general are little more than cele- 
brations of escape from defeat, and to which tiiey, who surpass 
all but themselvesj are often capriciously reduced. It is ques. 



EIGHT HO^, EICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 183 

tionable, too, whether, in any other walk of literature, he would 
have sustained the high reputation which he acquired by the drama. 
Very rarely have dramatic writers, even of the first rank, ex- 
hibited .powers of equal rate, when out of the precincts of their 
own art ; while, on the other hand, poets of a more general 
range, whether epic, lyric, or satiric, have as rarely succeeded on 
the stage. There is, indeed, hardly one of our celebrated dra- 
matic authors (and the remark might be extended to other coun- 
tries) who has left works worthy of his reputation in any other 
line ; and Mr. Sheridan, perhaps, might only have been saved 
from adding to the list of failures, by such a degree of prudence 
or of mdolence as would have prevented him from making the 
attempt. He may, therefore, be said to have closed his account 
with literature, when not only the glory of his past successes, but 
the hopes of all that he might yet have achieved, were set down 
fully, and without any risk of forfeiture, to his credit ; and, in- 
stead of being left, like Alexander, to sigh for new worlds to 
vanquish, no sooner were his triumphs in one sphere of action 
complete than another opened to invite him to new conquests. 

We have already seen that Politics, from the very commence- 
ment of his career, had held divided empire with Literature in the 
tastes and studies of Mr. Sheridan ; and, even in his fullest 
enjoyment of the smiles of the Comic Muse, while he stood 
without a rival in her affections, the " Musa severior^^ of politics 
was estranging the constancy of his — 

'' Te tenet, ahsentes alios suspired amoves.'^'' , 

'' E'en wliile perfection lies within his arms, 
He strays in thought, and sighs for other charms. '^ 

Among his manuscripts there are some sheets of an Essay on 
Absentees, which, from the allusions it contains to the measures 
then in contemplation for Ireland, must have been written, I ra- 
ther think, about the year 1778 — when the School for Scandal 
was in its first career of success, and the Critic preparing, at no 
very long interval, to partake its triumph. It is obvious, from 
some expressions used in this pamphlet, that his intention was^ 



184 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

if not to publish it in Ireland, at least to give it the appearance 
of having been written there — and, except the pure unmixed mo- 
tive of rendering a service to his country, by the discussion of a 
subject so closelv connected with her interests, it is difficult to 
conceive what inducement he could have had to select at that 
moment such a topic for his pen. The plain, unpretending style 
of the greater part of the composition sufficiently proves that 
literary display was not the object of it; while the absence of all 
criminatory matter against the government precludes the idea 
of its having origmated in party zeal. 

x\s it is curious to observe how soberly his genius could yoke 
itself to grave matter of fact, after the winged excursions in 
which it had been indulging, I shall here lay som.e paragraphs of 
this pamphlet before the reader. 

In describing the effiicts of the prevailing system of pasturage 
— one of the evils attributed by him to Absentees, — he thus, with 
occasional irradiations of eloquence and ingenuity, expresses 
himself: — 

" Now it must ever be the interest of the Absentee to place his estates 
in the hands of as few tenants as possible, by which means there will be 
less difficulty or hazard in collecting his rents, and less intru.-ted to an 
agent, if his estate require one. The easiest method of ejecting this is 
by laying the land out for pasturage, and letting it in gross to those who 
deal only in ^ a fatal living crop ' — whose produce we are not allowed a 
market for when manufactured, while we want art, honesty, and encou- 
ragement to fit it for home consumption. Thus the indolent extravagance 
of the lord becomes subservient to the interest of a few mercenary graziers 
— shepherds of most unpastoral principles — while the veteran husbandman 
may lean on the shattered, unused plough, and view himself surrounded 
with flocks that furnish raiment vrithout food. Or, if his honesty be not 
proof against the hard assaults of penury, he may be led to revenge him- 
self on these dumb innovators of his little field — then learn too late thai 
some portion of the soil is reserved for a crop more fatal even than thai 
which tempted and destroyed him. 

" Without dwelling on the particular ill effects of non-residence in thi-' 
case, I shall conclude with representing that principal and supreme pre- 
rogative which the Absentee foregoes — the prerogative of mercy, of charity. 
The estated resident is invested with a kind of relieving providence — a 
power to heal the wounds of undieserYed misfortune — ^to hi*eals; the blowa 



EIGHT HCiS^. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 185 

of adverse fortune, and leave chance no power to undo the hopes of honest 
persevering industry. There cannot surely be a more happy station than 
that wherein prosperity and worldly interest are to be best forwarded by an 
exertion of the most endearing offices of humanity. This is his situation 
who lives on the soil which furnishes him with means to live. It is his in- 
terest to watch the devastation of the storm, the ravage of the flood — to 
mark the pernicious extremes of the elements, and, by a judicious indul- 
gence and assistance, to convert the sorrows and repinings of the sufterer 
into blessings on his humanity. By such a conduct he saves his people 
from the sin of unrighteous murmurs, and makes Heaven his debtor for 
their resignation. 

" It will be said that the residing in another kingdom will never erase 
from humane minds the duty and attention which they owe to those whom 
they have left to cultivate their demesnes. I will not say that absence 
lessens their humanity, or that the superior dissipation which they enjoy in 
it contracts their feelings to coarser enjoyments — without this, we know 
that agents and stewards are seldom intrusted with full powers of aiding 
and remitting. In some, compassion would be injustice. They are, in 
general, content with the virtue of justice and punctuality towards their 
employer ; part of which they conceive to be a rigorous exaction of his 
rents, and, where difficulty occurs, their process is simply to distrain and 
to eject — a rigor that must ever be prejudicial to an estate, and which, 
practised frequently, betrays either an original negligence, or want of judg- 
ment in choosing tenants, or an extreme inhumanity towards their incidental 
miscarriages. 

" But, granting an undiminished benevolence to exist on the part both 
of the landlord and the agent, yet can we expect any great exertion of 
pathetic eloquence to proceed from the latter to palliate any deficiency 
of the tenants? — or, if there were, do we not know how much lighter an 
impression is made by distresses related to us than by those which are 
' oculis suhjccta fidelihus f The heart, the seat of charity and compassion, 
is more accessible to the senses than the understanding. Many, who would 
be unmoved by any address to the latter, would melt into charity at the 
eloquent persuasion of silent sorrow. When he sees the widow's tear, and 
hears the orphan's sigh, every one will act with a sudden uniform rec- 
titude, because he acts from the divine impulse of ' free love dealt equally 
to all.' " 

The blind selfishness of those commercial laws, which England 
so long imposed upon Ireland, — like ligatures to check the cir- 
culation of the empire's life-blood, — is thus adverted to : 

'' Though I have mentioned the decay of trade in Ireland as insufficient 
to occasioii the great increase of emigration, yet is it to bo considered as 



186 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

an important ill effect, arising from the same cause. It may be said that 
trade is now in higher repute in Ireland, and that the exports and imports 
(which are always supposed the test of it) are daily increasing. This may 
be admitted to be true, yet cannot it be said that the trade of the kingdom 
flourishes. The trade of a kingdom should increase in exact proportion to 
its luxuries, and those of the nations connected with it. Therefore it is no 
argument to say, that, on examining the accounts of customs fifty years 
back, they appear to be trebled now ; for England, by some sudden stroke, 
might lose such a proportion of its trade, as would ruin it as a commercial 
nation, yet the amount of what remained might be tenfold of what it en 
joyed in the reign of Queen Elizabeth. Trade, properly speaking, is the 
commutations of the product of each country — this extends itself to the 
exchange of commodities in Vv^hich art has fixed a price. Where a nation 
Aath free power to export the works of its industry, the balance in such 
articles will certainly be in its favor. Thus had we in Ireland power to 
export our manufactured silks, stufls, and woollens, we should be assured 
that it would be our interest to import and cultivate their materials. But, 
^ as this is not the case, the gain of individuals is no proof that the nation 
is benefited by such commerce. For instance, the exportation of un- 
wrought wool may be very advantageous to the dealer, and, through his 
hands, bring money, or a beneficial return of commodities into the king- 
dom ; but trace the ill effects of depopulating such tracts of land as are 
necessary for the support of flocks to supply this branch, and number those* 
who are deprived of support and employment by it, and so become a dead 
weight on the communit}^ — we shall find that the nation in fact will be tiie 
poorer for this apparent advantage. This would be remedied were we 
allowed to export it manufactured ; because the husbandman might get his 
bread as a manufacturer. 

" Another principal cause that the trade may increase, without propor- 
tionally benefiting the nation, is that a great part of the stock which car- 
ries on the foreign trade of Ireland belongs to those who reside out of the 
country — thus the ultimate and material profits on it are withdrawn tc 
another kingdom. It is likewise to be observed, that, though the export- 
ations may appear to exceed the importations, yet may this in part, arise 
from the accounts of the former being of a more certain nature, and those 
of the latter very conjectural, and always falling short of the fact." 

Thougli Mr. Sheridan afterwards opposed a Union with Ireland 
the train of reasoning which he pursued in this pamphlet natu- 
rally led him to look forward to such an arrangement between 
the two countries, as, .perhaps, the only chance of solving the 
long-existing problem of their relationship to each other. 



EIGHT HOl^. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 187 

" It is the state, (he continues,) the luxury, and fashions of the wealthy, 
that give life to the artificers of elegance and taste ; — it is their numerous 
train that sends the rapid shuttle through the loom ; — and, when they 
leave their country, they not only beggar these dependents, but the tribes 
that lived by clothing them. 

'' An extravagant passion for luxuries hath been in all nations a symp- 
tom of an approaching dissolution. However, in commercial states, while 
it predominates only among the higher ranks, it brings with it the con- 
ciliating advantage of being greatly beneficial to trade and manufactures. 
But, how singularly unfortunate is that kingdom, where the luxurious pas- 
sions of the great beggar those who vShould be supported by them, — a king- 
dom, whose wealthy members keep equal pace with their numbers in the 
dissipated and fantastical pursuits of life, without sulfering the lower class 
to glean even the dregs of their vices. While this is the case with Ireland 
the prosperity of her trade must be all forced and unnatural ; and if, in 
the absence of its wealthy and estated members, the state already feels all 
the disadvantages of a Union, it cannot do better than endeavor at a free 
trade by effecting it in reality.'^ 

Having demonstrated, at some length, the general evil of ab- 
senteeism, he thus proceeds to inquire into the most eligible 
remedy for it : — 

*' The evil complained of is simply the absence of the proprietors of a 
certain portion of the landed property. This is an evil unprovided against 
by the legislature ; — therefore, we are not to consider whether it might not 
with propriety have been guarded against, but whether a remedy or al- 
leviation of it can now be attempted consistently with the spirit of the 
Constitution. On examining all the most obvious methods of attempting 
this, I believe there Vvill appear but two practicable. The First will be by 
enacting a law for the frequent summoning the proprietors of landed pro- 
perty to appear de facto at stated times. The Second will be the voting 
a supply to be raised from the estates of such as do never reside in the 
kingdom. 

" The First, it is obvious, would be an obligation of no use, without a 
penal :7 was affixed to the breach of it, amounting to the actual forfeiture 
of the estate of the recusant. This, we are informed, was once the case in 
Ireland. But at present, whatever advantage the kingdom might reap by 
it, it could not possibly be reconciled to the genius of the Constitution ; 
and, if the fine were trifling, it would prove the same as the second method, 
with the disadvantage of appearing to treat as an act of delinquency what 
in no way infringes the municipal laws of the kingdom. 



188 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

'^ In the Second method the legislature is, in no respect, to be supposed to 
regard the person of the Absentee. It prescribes no place of residence to 
him, nor attempts to summon or detain him. The light it takes up the 
point in is this — that the welfare of the whole is injured by the produce of 
a certain portion of the soil being sent out of the kingdom. * * * j^ 
will be said that the produce of the soil is not exported by being carried to 
our own markets ; but if the value received in exchange for it, whatever it 
be, whether money or commodities, be exported, it is exactly the same in 
its ultimate effects as if the grain, flocks, &c. were literally sent to England. 
In this light, then, if the state is found to suffer by such an exportation, 
its deducting a small part from the produce is simply a reimbursing the 
public, and putting the loss of the public (to whose welfare the interest of 
individuals is always to be subservient) upon those very members who 
occasion that loss. 

^^ This is only to be effected by a tax.'' 

Though to a political economist of the present dny much of 
what is so loosely expressed in these extracts will appear but 
the crudities of a tyro in the science, yet, at the time when they 
were written, — when both Mr. Fox and Mr. Burke could expa 
tiate on the state of Ireland, without a single attempt to devel 
op or enforce those simple, but wise principles of commercial 
policy, every one of which had been violated in the restrictions on 
her industry, — it was no small merit in Mr. Sheridan to have 
advanced even thus far in a branch of knowledge so rare and so 
important. 

In addition to his own early taste for politics, the intimacies 
which he had now formed with some of the most eminent public 
men of the day must have considerably tended to turn his am- 
bition in that direction. At what time he first became acquaint- 
ed with Mr. Fox I have no means of ascertaining exactly. 
Among the letters addressed to him by that statesman, there is 
one which, from the formiality of its style, must have been writ- 
ten at the very commencement of their acquaintance — -but, un- 
luckily, it is not dated. Lord John To\^Tii-hend, who first had 
the happiness of bringing two such men together, lia3 given the 
following interesting account c;f their meeting, and of the impres- 
sions which they left upon the minds of each other. His lord- 
ship, however, has not specified, the period of this introduction ;-r 



RIGHO} HON. RICHARD BRIKSLEY SHERIDAN. 189 

" I made the first dinner-party at which they met, having told 
Fox that all the notions he might have conceived of Sheridan's 
talents and genius from the comedy of The Rivals, &c. would 
fall infinitely short of the admiration of his astonishing powers, 
which I was sure he would entertain at the first interview. The 
first interview between them (there were very few present, only 
Tickell and myself, and one or two more) I shall never forget. 
Fox told me, after breaking up from dinner, that he had always 
thought Hare, after my uncle, Charles Townshend, the wittiest 
man he ever met with, but that Sheridan surpassed them both 
infinitely ; and Sheridan told me next day that he was quite lost 
in admiration of Fox, and thgLt it was a puzzle to him to say 
what he admired most, his commanding superiority of talent and 
universal knowledge, or his playful fancy, artless manners, and 
benevolence of heart, which showed itself in every word he ut- 
tered." 

With Burke Mr. Sheridan became acquainted at the celebrated 
Turk's Head Club, — and, if any incentive was wanting to his 
new passion for political distinction, the station to which he saw 
his eloquent fellow-countryman exalted, with no greater claims 
from birth or connection than his own, could not have failed to 
fiirnish it. His intimacy with Mr. Windham began, as we 
have seen, very early at Bath, and the following letter, addressed 
to him by that gentleman from Norfolk, in the year 1778, is a 
curious record not only of the first political movements of a 
person so celebrated as Mr. Windham, but of the interest with 
which Sheridan then entered into the public measures of the 
day: — 

" Jan. 5, 1778. 
" I fear my letter will greatly disappoint your hopes.* I have 

* Mr. Windham had gone down to Norfolk, in consequence of a proposed meeting m 
that county, under the auspices of Lord Townshend, for the purpose of raising a sub- 
scription in aid of government, to be applied towards carrying on the war with the 
American colonies. In about three weeks after the date of this letter, the meeting was held, 
and Mr. Windham, m a spirited answer to Lord Townshend, made the first essay of his 
eloquence in pubhc. 



190 3j:emoirs of the life of the 

no account to send you cf my answering Lord Townshend — of 
hard-fought contests — spirited resolves — ballads, mobs, cockades, 
and Lord North burnt in effigy. We have had a bloodless cam- 
paign, but not from backwardness in our troops, but for the 
most creditable reason that can be — want of 'resolution in the 
enemy to encounter us. When I got down here early this 
morning, expecting to find a room prepared, a chair set for the 
president, and nothing wanting but that the orators should begin, 
I was surprised to learn that no advertiscm.ent had appeared on 
the other part ; but that Lord T. having dined at a meeting, 
where the proposal was received very coldly, had taken fright, 
and for the time at least had dropped the proposal. It had ap- 
peared, therefore, to those whom I applied to (and I think very 
rightly) that till an advertisement was inserted by them, or was 
known for certain to be intended, it would not be proper for any 
thing to be done by us. In this state, therefore, it rests. The 
advertisement which we agreed upon is left at the printer's, 
ready to be inserted upon the appearance of one from them. 
We lie upon our arms, and shall begin to act upon any motion 
of the enemy. I am very sorry that things have taken this turn, 
as I came down in full confidence of being able to accomplish 
somethmg distinguished. I had drawn up, as I came along, a 
tolerably good paper, to be distributed to-morrow in the streets, 
and settled pretty well in my head the terms of a protest — be- 
sides some pretty smart pieces of oratory, delivered upon New- 
market Heath. I never felt so much disposition to exert my- 
self before — I hope from my never ha^dng before so fiir a pros- 
pect of doing it wit^h success. When the coach comes in, I hope 
I shall receive a packet from you, which shall not be lost, though 
it may not be used immediately. 

" I must leave off writing, for I have got some other letters 
to send by to-night's post. Writing in this ink is like speaking 
with respect to the utter annihilation of what is past ; — by the 
time it gets to you, perhaps, it may have become legible, but I 
have no chance of reading over my letter myself. 



RIGHT HOK. EICHABD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 191 

" I shall not suffer this occasion to pass over entirely without 
benefit. 

" Believe me J' v^urs most truly, 

" W. Windham. 
" Tell Mrs. Sheridan that I hope she will have a closet ready, 
where I may remain till the heat of the pursuit is over. My 
friends in France have promised to have a vessel ready upon 
the coast. 

" Richard Brinshy Sheridan, Esq,, 

Queen Street, Lincoln^ s Inn Fields J'^ 

The first political service rendered by Mr. Sheridan to the 
party with whom he now closely connected himself, was the ac- 
tive share which he took in a periodical paper called The English- 
man, set up by the Whigs for the purpose of seconding, out of 
parliament, the crimination and invective of which they kept up 
such a brisk fire within. The intention, as announced bv Sheri- 
dan in the first Number,^ was, like Swift in the Drapier's Let- 
ters, to accommodate the style of the publication to the com- 
prehension of persons m " that class of the community, who are 
commonly called the honest and industrious.'''^ But this plan, — 
which not even Swift, independent as was his humor of the arti- 
fices of style, could adhere to, — was soon abandoned, and there 
is in most of Sheridan's own papers a finesse and ingenuity of 
allusion, which only the most cultivated part of his readers could 
fully enjoy. For instance, in exposing the inconsistency of Lord 
North, w^ho had lately consented in a Committee of the whole 
House, to a motion which he had violently opposed in the House 
itself, — thus "making (says Sheridan) that respectable assembly 
disobey its own orders, and the members reject with contempt, 
under the form of a Chairman, the resolutions they had imposed 
on themselves under the authority of a Speaker ;" — he proceeds 
in a strain of refined raillery, as little suited to the " honest and 
industrious" class of the community, as Swift's references to 
Locke, Molyneux, and Sydney, were to the readers for whom he 
also professed to write : — 

* Publifilied 13th of March, 1779 



192 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

^^ The burlesque of any plan, I know, is rather a recommendation of it 
to Your Lordship ; and the ridicule you might throw on this assembly, by 
continuing to support this Athanasian distinction of powers in the unity of 
an apparently corporate body, might in the end compensate to you for the 
discredit you have incurred in the attempt. 

'' A deliberative body of so uncomnion a form, would probably be 
deemed a kind of state monster by the ignorant and the vulgar. This 
might at first increase their awe for it, and so far counteract Your Lord- 
ship's intentions. They would probably approach it with as much reve- 
rence as Stephano does the monster in the Tempest : — • What, one body 
and two voices — a most delicate monster!' However, they would soon 
grow familiarized to it, and probably hold it in as little respect as they 
were wished to do. They would find it on many occasions ' a very shallow 
monster/ and particularly • a most poor credulous monster,' — while Your 
Lordship, as keeper, would enjoy every advantage and profit that could be 
made of it. You would have the benefit of the two voices, which would be 
the xMONster's great excellencies, and would be peculiarly serviceable to 
Your Lordship. With ' the forward voice ' you would aptly promulgate 
those vigorous schemes and productive resources, in which Your Lordship's 
fancy is so pregnant ; while ' the backward voice ^ might be kept solely for 
reca7itation. The monster, to maintain its character, must appear no novice 
in the science of flattery, or in the talents of servility, — and while it could 
never scruple to bear any burdens Your Lordship should please to lay on 
it, you would always, on the approach of a storm, find a shelter under its 
gabardine." 

The most celebrated of these papers was the attack upon Lord 
George Germaine, written also by Mr. Sheridan, — a composition 
which, for unaffected strength of style and earnestness of feeling, 
may claim a high rank among the models of political vitu- 
peration. To every generation its own contemporary press 
seems always more licentious than any that had preceded it ; 
but it may be questioned, whether the boldness of modern libel 
has ever gone beyond the direct and undisguised personality, 
with which one cabinet minister was called a liar and another a 
coward, in this and other writings of the popular party at that 
period. The following is the concluding paragraph of this paper 
against Lord George Germaine, which is in the form of a Letter 
to the Freeholders of England : — 

" It would be presuming too much on your attention, at present, to 



iiiGST HON. RICHARt BRINSLEY SHERIDAX. 193 

enter into an investigation of the measures and system of war whicli this 
minister has pursued, — these shall certainly be the subject of a future paper. 
At present I shall only observe that, however mortifying it may be to re- 
flect on the ignominy and disasters which this inauspicious character has 
brought on his country, yet there are consoling circumstances to be drawn 
even from his ill success. The calamities which may be laid to his account 
are certainly great ; but, had the case been otherwise, it may fairly be 
questioned whether the example of a degraded and reprobated ofScer (pre- 
posterously elevated to oue of the first stations of honor and confidence in 
the state) directing the military enterprises of this country with unlooked- 
for prosperity, might not ultimately be the cause of more extensive evils 
than even those, great as they are, v/hich we at present experience : whe- 
ther from so fatal a precedent we might not be led to introduce characters 
under similar disqualifications into every departmenf : — to appoint Atheists 
to the mitre, Jews to the exchequer, — to select a treasury-bench from the 
Jiistitia, to place Brown Dignam on the wool-sack, and Sir Hugh Palliser 
at the head of the admiralty." 

The Englishman, as might be expected from the pm^suits and 
habits of those concerned in it, was not very punctually con- 
ducted, and after many apologies from the publisher for its not a^ 
pearing at the stated times, (Wednesdays and Saturdays,) cease 
altogether on the 2d of June. From an imperfect sketch of a 
new Number, found among Mr. Sheridan's manuscripts, it ap- 
pears that there was an intention of reviving it a short time after 
— probably towards the autumn of the same year, from the fol- 
lowing allusion to Mr. Gibbon, whose acceptance of a seat at 
the Board of Trade took place, if I recollect right, in the sum- 
mer of 1779 :— 

" This policy is very evident among the majority in both houses, who, 
though they make no scruple in private to acknowledge the total inca- 
pacity of ministers, yet, in public, speak and vote as if they believed them 
to have every virtue under heaven ; and, on this principle, some gentle- 
men, — as Mr. Gibbon, for instance, — while, in private, they indulge their 
opinion pretty freely, will yet, in their zeal lor the public good, even con- 
descend to accept a place, in order to give a color to their confidence in 
the wisdom of the government.' ' 



It is needless to say that Mr. Sheridan had been for some 
ne among the most welc 

VOL. I. 9 



tune among the most welcome guests at Devonshire House — 



194 MEIMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

that rendezvous of all the wits anJ beauties of fashionable life, 
where Politics was taught to w^ear its most attractive form, and 
sat enthroned, like Virtue among the Epicureans, with all the 
graces and pleasures for handmaids. 

Without any disparagement of the manly and useful talents, 
which are at present no where more conspicuous than in the up- 
per ranks of society, it may be ovrned that for wit, social powd- 
ers, and literary accomplishments, the political men of the pe- 
riod under consideration formed such an assemblage as it would 
be flattery to say that our own times can parallel. The natural 
tendency of the excesses of the French Eevolution was to pro- 
duce in the higher classes of England an increased reserve of 
manner, and, of course, a proportionate restraint on all within 
their circle, w^hich have been fatal to conviviality and humor, 
and not very propitious to wit — subduing both manners and con- 
versation to a sort of polished level, to rise above which is often 
^.hoiip-ht almost as vulgar as to sink below it. Of the greater 
•. < manners that existed some forty or fifty years ago, one 
.1 iwig, but not the less significant, indication was the habit, then 
prevalent among men of high station, of calling each other by 
such flmiiliar names as Dick, Jack, Tom, (kc."^ — a mode of ad- 
dress that brings w^ith it, in its very sound, the notion of con- 
viviality and playflilness, and, hov/ever unrefined, implies, at 
least, that ease and sea-room^ in which wit spreads its canvas 
most fearlessly. 

With respect to literary accomplishments, too, — in one branch 
of which, poetry, almost all the leading politicians of that day 
distinguished themselves — the change that has taken place in the 
times, independently of any want of such talent, w^ill fully ac- 
count for the difference that we witness, in this respect, at present. 
As the public mind becomes more intelligent and watchful, states- 
men can the less afford to trifle with their talents, or to bring 
suspicion upon their fitness for their own vocation, by the fail- 
uies which they risk in deviating into others. Besides, in poetry, 

♦ Dick Sheridan, Ned Burke. Jf.rk Tov.mshend, Tom Gren\ille, kc . &c. 



RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 195 

the temptation of distinction no longer exists — the commonness 
of that talent in the market, at present, being such as to reduce 
the value of an elegant copy of verses very far below the price 
it was at, when Mr. Hay ley enjoyed an almost exclusive monop- 
oly of the article. 

In the clever Epistle, by Tickell, " from the Hon. Charles Fox, 
partridge-shooting, to the Hon. John Townshend, cruising," some 
of the most shining persons in that assemblage of wits and states- 
men, who gave a lustre to Brooks's Club-House at the period of 
which we are speaking, are thus agreeably grouped : — 

" Soon as to Brooks's* thence thy footsteps bend, 
What gratulations thy approach attend 1 
See Gibbon rap his box — auspicious sign 
That classic compliment and wit combine ; 
See Beauclerk's cheek a tinge of red surp,rise, 
And friendship give what cruel health denies ; — 



On that auspicious night, sapremely grac'd 

With chosen guests, the pride of liberal taste, 

Not in contentious heat, nor maddening strife, 

Not with the busy ills, nor cares of life. 

We'll waste the fleeting hours — far happier themes 

Shall claim each thought and chase ambition's dreams* 

Each beauty that sublimity can boast 

He best shall tell, who still unites them most. 

Of wit, of taste, of fancy we'll debate, 

If Sheridan, for once, be not too late : 

But scarce a thought on politics we'll spare, 

Unless on Polish politics, with Hare. 

Good-natur'd Devon ! oft shall then appear 

The cool complacence of thy friendly sneer : 

* The well-known lines on Brooks himself are perhaps the perfection of this drawing' 
ro'^ni style of humor : — 

*' And know, I've bought the best cliampagne from Brooks ; 
From liberal Broo'vS, whose speculative skill 
Is hasty credit, and a distant bill ; 
"Who, nurs'd in clubs, disdains a \'Ti]gar trade, 
Exults to trust, and blushes to be paid." 



196 MEMOIES OF THE LIFE OF THfiJ 

Oft shall Fitzpatrick's wit and Stanhope's ease 
And Burgojiie's manly sense unite to please. 
And while each guest attends our varied feats 
Of scattered covies and retreating fleets, 
Me shall they wish some better sport to gain, 
And Thee more glory, from the next campaign." 

In the society of such men the destiny of Mr. Sheridan could 
not be long in fixing. On the one side, his own keen thirst for 
distinction, and on the other, a quick and sanguine appreciation 
of the service that such talents might render in the warfare of 
party, could not fail to hasten the result that both desired. 

His first appearance before the public as a political character 
was in conjunction with Mr. Fox, at the beginnmg of the year 
1780, when the famous Resolutions on the State of the Repre- 
sentation, signed by Mr. Fox as chairman of the Westminster 
Committee, together with a Report on the same subject from the 
Sub-committee, signed by Sheridan, were laid before the public. 
Annual Parliaments and Universal Suffrage were the professed 
objects of this meeting ; and the first of the Resolutions, sub- 
scribed by Mr. Fox, stated that " Annual Parliaments are the 
undoubted right of the people of England." 

Notwithstanding this strong declaration, it may be doubted 
whether Sheridan was, any more than Mr. Fox, a very sincere 
friend to the principle of Reform ; and the manner in which he 
masked his disinclination or indifference to it was strongly cha- 
racteristic both of his humor and his tact. Aware that the wild 
scheme of CartwTight and others, which these resolutions recom- 
mended, was wholly impracticable, he always took refuge in it 
when pressed upon the subject, and vrould laughingly advise his 
political friends to do the same: — ''Whenever any one," he 
would say, " proposes to you a specific plan of Reform, always 
answer that you are for nothing short of Annual Parliaments 
and Universal Suffrage — there you are safe." He also had evi- 
dent delight, when talking on this question, in referring to a 
jest of Burke, who said that there had arisen a new party of Re- 
formers, still more orthodox than the rest, who thought Annual 



RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 197 

Parliaments far from being sufficiently frequent, and who, found- 
ing themselves upon the latter words of the statute of Edward 
III., that " a parliament shall be holden every year once and 
more often if med 5^," were known by the denomination of the 
Oftener-ifneed-bes, " For my part," he would add, in relating 
this, "I am an Ofiener-if-need-be." Even when most serious on 
the subject (for, to the last he professed himself a warm friend 
to Reform) his arguments had the air of being ironical and in- 
sidious. To Annual Parliaments and Universal Suffrage, he 
would say, the principles of representation naturally and neces- 
sarily led, — any less extensive proposition was a bast compro- 
mise and a dereliction of right ; and the first encroachment on 
the people was the Act of Henry VI., which limited the power 
of election to forty-shilling freeholders within the county, whereas 
the real right was in the " outrageous and excessive" number of 
people by whom the preamble recites* that the choice had been 
made of late. — Such were the arguments by which he aifected to 
support his cause, and it is not difficult to detect the eyes of the 
snake glistening from under them. 

The dissolution of parliament that took place in the autumn of 
this year (1780) afforded at lengtn : e oppoicunity t-o which nis 
ambition had so eagerly looked forward. It has been said, I 
know not with what accuracy, that he first tried his chance of 
election at Honiton — but Stafford was the place destined to have 
the honor of first cnoosing him for its representative ; and it 
must have been no small gratification to his independent spirit, 
that, unfurnished as he was with claims from past political 
services, he appeared in parliament, not as the nominee of any 
aristocratic patron, but as member for a borough, which, what- 
ever might be its purity in other respects, at least enjoyed the 
freedom of choice. Elected conjointly with Mr. Monckton, to 
whobe interest and exertions he chiefly owed his success, he 
took his seat in the new parliament which met in the month of 

* '-Elections of knights of shires have now of late been made by very great outra- 
geous and excessive number of people, dwelling within the same counties, of the whicb 
most part v^s people of small substance and of no value." 8 H. 6. c. 7. 



198 • MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

October ; — and, from that moment giving himself up to the pur- 
suit of politics, bid adieu to the worship of the Dramatic Muse 
for ever. 

" Comcedia luget ; 
Scena est desert a : hinc Indus risusque jocusque 
Et numeri innumeri simul omnes collacrumarunt,^^ 

Comedy mourns — the Stage neglected sleeps — 
E-en Mirth in tears his languid laughter steeps — 
And Song, through all her various empire, weepa 



R^.GHT HON. EIOHARD BBINSLEY SHEBIDAIS'. 199 



CHAPTER VII. 

UNFINISHED PLAYS AND POEMS. 

Before I enter upon the sketch of Mr. Sheridan's political 
life, I shall take this opportunity of laying before the reader 
such information with respect to his unfinished literary designs, 
both iramatic and poetic, as the papers in my possession enable 
me to communicate. 

Some of his youthful attempts in literature have already been 
mentioned, and there is a dramatic sketch of his, founded on the 
Vicar of Wakefield, which from a date on the manuscript (1768), 
appears to have been produced at a still earlier age, and when 
he was only in his seventeenth year. A scene of this piece will 
be sufficient to show how very soon his talent for lively dialogue 
displayed itself: — 

"Scene n. 

" Thornhill and Arnold. 

" Thornhill. Nay. prithee, Jack, no more of that if you love me. What, 
shall I stop short with the game in full view? Faith, I believe the fel- 
low's turned puritan. What think you of turning methodist. Jack? You 
^have a tolerable good canting countenance, and. if escaped being taken up 
for a Jesuit, you might make a fortune in Moor-fields. 

" Arnold. I was serious, Tom. 

" Thorn. Splenetic you mean. Come, fill your glass, and a truce to 
your preaching. Here's a pretty fellow has let his conscience sleep for 
these five years, and has now plucked morality from the leaves of his 
grandmother's bible, beginning to declaim against what he has practised 
half his life-time. Why, I tell you once more, my schemes are all come to 
perfection. I am now convinced Olivia loves me — at our last conversa- 
tion, she said she would rely wholly on my honor. 

" Am. And therefore you would deceive her. 

^^ TJiorn. Why no — deceive her? — v/hy— indeed — as to that — ^but— -but, 



200 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

for God's sake, let me hear no more on this subject, for, 'faith, you make 
me sad, Jack. If you continue your admonitions, I shall begin to think 
you have yourself an eye on the girl. You have promised me your assist- 
ance, and when you came down into the country, were as hot on the 
scheme as myself: but, since you have been two or three times with me at 
Primrose's, you have fallen off strangely. No encroachments. Jack, on my 
little rose-bud — if you have a mind to beat up game in this quarter, there's 
her sister — but n-o poaching. 

" Ar7i I am not insensible to her sister's merit, but have no such views 
as you have. However, you have promised me that if you find in this lady 
that real virtue which you so firmly deny to exist in the sex, you will give 
up the pursuit, and, foregoing the low considerations of fortune, make 
atonement by marriage. 

" Thorn. Such is my serious resolution. 

" A rn. I wish you'd forego the experiment. But, you have been so much 
in raptures with yom- success, that I have, as yet, had no clear account 
how you came acquainted in the family. 

^^ Thorn, Oh, I'll tell you immediately. You know Lady Patchet ? 

" Am, "^Tiat, is she here ? 

" Thorn. It was by her I was first introduced. It seems that, last year, 
her ladyship's reputation began to suffer a little ; so that she thought it 
prudent to retire for a while, till people learned better manners or got 
worse memories. She soon became acquainted with this little family, and, 
as the wife is a prodigious admirer of quality, grew in a short time to be 
very intimate, and imagining that she may one day make her market of the 
girls, has much ingratiated herself with them. She introduced me — I 
drank, and abused this degenerate age with the father — promised wonders 
to the mother for all her brats — praised her gooseberry wine, and ogled 
the daughters, by which means in three days I made the progress I related 
to you. 

" Am. You have been expeditious indeed. I fear where that devil Lady 
Patchet is concerned there can be no good — but is there not a son ? 

^^ Thorn. Oh ! the most ridiculous creature in nature. He has been bred 
in the country a bumpkin all his life, till within these six years, when he was 
sent to the University, but the misfortunes that have reduced his father fall- 
ing out, he is returned, the most ridiculous animal you ever saw, a conceit- 
ed, disputing blockhead. So there is no great matter to fear from his 
penetration. But come, let us begone, and see this moral family, we shall 
meet them coming from the field, and you will see a man who was once in 
affluence, maintaining by hard labor a numerous family. 

*• Am. Oh ! Thornhill, can you wish to add infamy to their poverty ? 

'' {Exeunt:^ 



RIGHT HOIS'. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDA:^^. 201 

There also remain among his papers three Acts of a Drama, 
without a name, — written evidently in haste, and with scarcely 
any correction, — the subject of which is so wild and unmanage- 
ablej that I should not have hesitated in referring it to the same 
early date, had not the introduction into one of the scenes of 
" Dry be that tear, be hush'd that sigh," proved it to have been 
produced after that pretty song was written. 

The chief personages upon whom the story turns are a band 
of outlaws, who, under the name and disguise of Devils^ have 
taken up their residence in a gloomy wood, adjoining a village, 
the inhabitants of which they keep in perpetual alarm*by their 
incursions and apparitions. In the same wood resides a hermit, 
secretly connected with this band, w^ho keeps secluded wdthin 
his cave the beautiful Reginilla, hid alike from the light of the 
sun and the eyes of men. She has, however, been indulged in 
her prison with a glimpse of a handsome young huntsman, 
whom she believes to be a phantom, and is encouraged in her 
belief by the hermit, by whose contrivance this huntsman (a 
prince in disguise) has been thus presented to her. The follow- 
ing is — as well as I can make it out from a manuscript not easi- 
ly decipherable — the scene that takes place between the fair re- 
cluse and her visitant. The style, where style is attempted, 
shows, as the reader will perceive, a taste yet immature and un- 
chastened : — 

" Scene draws^ and discovers REGiNUiLA asleep in the cave, 

" Enter Peyidor and other Devils, with the Huntsman — imhind himy 

and exeunt 

" Hunts. Ha ! AVhere am I now ? Is it indeed the dread abode of guilt, 
or refuge of a band of thieves ? it cannot be a dream (sees Reginilla.) Ha ! 
if this be so, and I do dream, may I never wake — it is — my beating heart 
acknowledges my dear, gentle Reginilla. I'll not wake her, lest, if it be a 
phantom, it should vanish. Oh, balmy breath! but for thy soft sighs that 

come to tell me it is no image, I should believe {bends down towards 

her.) a sigh from her heart ! — thus let me arrest thee on thy way. {kisses 
her.) A deeper blush has flushed her cheek — sweet modesty ! that even in 
Bleep is conscious and resentful. -She will not wake, and yet some fancy 
VOL. I, 9* 



202 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

calls up those frequent siglis — liow her heart beats in its ivory cage, like 
an imprisoned bird — or as if to reprove the hand that dares approach its 
sanctuary! Oh, would she but wake, and bless this gloom with her bright 
eyes! — Soft, here's a lute — perhaps her soul will hear the call of harmony. 

* ^' Oh yield, fair lids, the treasures of my heart, 

Release those beams, that make this mansion bright ; 
From her sweet sense. Slumber ! tho' sweet thou art, 
Begone, and give fhe air she breathes in light. 

" Or while, oh Sleep, thou dost those glances hide, 
Let rosy slumbers still around her play, 
Sweet as the cherub Innocence enjoy'd. 
When in thy lap, new-born, in smiles he lay. 

" And thou, oh Dream, that com-st her sleep to cheer, 
Oh take my shape, and play a lover's part ; 
Kiss her from me, and whisper in her ear, 

Till her eyes shine, 'tis night within my heart. 

" Eeg. (waking.) The phantom, father ! {seizes his hand.) ah, do not, 
do not wake me then, (rises.) 

^' Runts, {kneeling to her.) Thou beauteous sun of this dark world, that 
mak'st a place, so like the cave of death, a heaven to me, instruct me how 
I may approach thee — how address thee and not offend. 

'' Eeg. Oh how my soul would hang upon those lips ! speak on — and yet, 
methinks, he should not kneel so — why are you afraid, Sir? indeed, I can- 
not hurt you. 

" Hunts. Sweet innocence, I'm sure thou would'st not. 

" Reg. Art thou not he to whom I told my name, and didst thou not say 
thine was — 

*' Hunts. Oh blessed be the name that then thou told'st — it has been ever 
since my charm, and kept me from distraction. But, may I ask how such 
sweet excellence as thine could be hid in such a place ? 

'' Reg. Alas, I know not — for such as thou I never saw before, nor any 
like myself. 

"■ Hunts. Nor like thee ever shall— but would'st thou leave this place, 
and live with such as I am ? 

* I have taken the liberty here of supplying a few rhymes and words tliat are want- 
ing in the original copy of the song. The last line of all runs thus in the manuscript :— 

'' Till her eye shines I live in darkest night," 

which, not rh}-ming as it ought, I have ventured to alter as above. 



EIGHT HON. RICHAKD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 203 

^^ Reg. Why may not you live here witli sucli as I? 

*' Hunts. Yes — but I would carry thee where all above an azure canopy 
extends, at night bedropt with gems, and one more glorious lamp, that 
yields such bashful light as love enjoys — while underneath, a carpet shall 
be spread of flowers to court the pressui'e of thy step, with such sweet 
whispered invitations from the leaves of shady groves or murmuring of 
silver streams, that thou shalt think thou art in Paradise. 

''Reg. Indeed! 

''Hunts. Ay, and I'll watch and wait on thee all day, and cull the 
choicest flowers, which while thou bind'st in the mysterious knot of love, 
I'll tune for thee no vulgar lays, or tell thee tales shall make thee weep 
yet please thee — while thus I press* thy hand, and warm it thus with kisses. 

" Reg. I doubt thee not — but then my Governor has told me many a tale 
of faithless men who court a lady but to steal her peace and fame, and then 
to leave her. 

" Hunts. Oh never such as thou art — witness all 

" Reg. Then wherefore couldst thou not live here ? For I do feel, tho' 
tenfold darkness did surround this spot, I could be blest, would you but 
stay here ; and, if it made you sad to be imprison'd thus, I'd sing and play 
for thee, and dress thee sweetest fruits, and though you chid me, would 
kiss thy tear away and hide my blushing face upon thy bosom — indeed, I 
would. Then what avails the gaudy day, and all the evil things I'm told 
inhabit there, to those who have within themselves all that delight and 
love, and heaven can give. 

" Hunts. My angel, thou hast Indeed the soul of love. 

" Reg. It is no ill thing, is it ? 

"Hunts. Oh most divine— it is the immediate gift of heaven, which 
steals into our breast ******* 

* * * ******* 

'tis that which makes me sigh thus, look thus — fear and tremble for thee. 
" Reg. Sure I should learn it too, if you would teach me. 

{Sound of horn without — Huntsman starts. 
' Reg. You must not go — this is but a dance preparing for my amuse- 
ment — oh we have, indeed, some pleasures here — come, I will sing for you 
the while. 

" Song. 

" Wilt thou then leave me ? canst thou go from me. 

To woo the fair that love the gaudy day ? 
Yet, e'en among those joys, thou'lt find that sne, 

"VMio dwells in darkness, loves thee more than they. 
For these poor hands, and these unpractised eyes, 
And this poor heart is thine without disguiseia 



204 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

" But, if thou'lt stay with me, my only care 

Shall be to please and make thee love to stay, 
With music, song, and dance * 



* * * 
******** 



But, if you go, nor music, song, nor dance, 
******** * 

" If thou art studious, I will read 
Thee tales of pleasing woe — 
If thou art sad, I'll kiss away 
The tears that flow. 

" If thou would'st play, I'll kiss thee till I blush; 
Then hide that blush upon thy breast, 

If thou would'st sleep 

Shall rock thy aching head to rest. 

" Hunts, My soul's wonder, I will never leave thee. 

" {The Dance, — AUemande by two Bears,) 

" Enter Pevidor. 

"P^v. So fond, so soon! I cannot bear to see it. What ho, within 
{Devils enter,) secure him. {Seize and hind the Huntsman, '''' 

The Duke or sovereign of the country, where these events are 
supposed to take place, arrives at the head of a military force, 
for the purpose of investing the haunted wood, and putting down, 
as he says, those " lawless renegades, who, in infernal masque- 
rade, make a hell around him." He is also desirous of consult- 
ing the holy hermit of the wood, and availing himself of his pious 
consolations and prayers — being haunted with remorse for having 
criminally gained possession of the crown by contriving the 
shipwreck of the rightful heir, and then banishing from the court 
his most virtuous counsellors. In addition to these causes of dis- 
quietude, he has lately lost, in a mysterious manner, his only son, 
who, he supposes, has fallen a victim to these Satanic outlaws, 
but who, on the contrary, it appears, has voluntarily become an 
associate of their band, and is amusing himself, heedless of his 
noye father's sorrow, by making love, in the disguise of a Am 



RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 20o 

cing bear, to a young village coquette of the name of Mopsa. 
A short specimen of the manner m which this last farcical inci- 
dent is managed, will show how wide even Sheridan was, at first, 
of that true vein of comedy, which, on searching deeper into the 
mine, he so soon afterwards found : — 

" Scene. — The Inside of the Cottage, — Mopsa, Lubin (Jier father)^ and 
Colin {Jier lover), discovered. 

" Enter PevtooRj leading the Bear^ and singing, 

" And he dances, dances, dances, 

And goes upright like a Christian swain, 
And he shows vou pretty fancies, 
Nor ever tries to shake off his chain. 

" Lubin. Servant, master. Now, Mopsa, you are happy — it is, indeed, a 
handsome creature. What country does your bear come from ? 

" Pev. Dis bear, please your worship, is of de race of dat bear of St. 
Anthony, who was the first convert he made in de woods. St. Anthony 
bade him never more meddle with man, and de bear observed de command 
to his dying day. 

''Lub. Wonderful! 

" Pev. Dis generation be all de same — all born widout toots. 

'' OoUn. What, can't he bite ? {puts his finger to the Bear's mouth., who 
bites him.) Oh Lord, no toots ! why 70U 

'^ Pev. Oh dat be only his gum. {Mopsa laughs. 

^' Col. For shame, Mopsa — now. J say Maister Lubin, mustn't she give 
me a kiss to make it well ? 

" Lub. Ay. kiss her, kiss her, Colin. 

" Col. Come, Miss. {Mopsa runs to the Bear, who kisses her,^^ 

The following scene of the Devils drinking in their subterra- 
neous dwelling, though cleverly imagined, is such as, perhaps, no 
cookery of style could render palatable to an English audience. 

" Scene. — The Devils^ Cave. 

" 1st Lev. Come, Urial, here's to our resurrection. 
" 2c? Bev. It is a toast I'd scarcely pledge — uj my lifie, I think we're 
happier here. 

'• 3c? Dev Why, so think I— by Jove, I would despise the man, who could 



206 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

but wish to rise again to earth, unless we were to lord there. What! 
sneaking pitiful in bondage, among vile money-scrapers, treacherous 
friends, fawning flatterers — or, still worse, deceitful mistresses. Shall we 
who reign lords here, again lend ourselves to swell the train of tyranny 
and usurpation ? By my old father's memory, I'd rather be the blindest 
mole that ever skulked in darkness, the lord of one poor hole, where he 
might say, ^ I'm master here.' 

^' 2d Lev, You are too hot — where shall concord be found, if even the 
devils disagree ? — Come fill the glass, and add thy harmony — while we 
have wine to enlighten us, the sun be hanged ! I never thought he gave 
so fine a light for my part — and then, there are such vile inconveniences- 
high winds and storms, rains, &c. — oh hang it ! living on the outside of the 
earth is like sleeping on deck, when one might, like us, have a snug berth 
in the cabin. 

" 1st JDev, True, true, — Helial, where is thy catch ? 

"In the earth's centre let me live, 

There, like a rabbit will I thrive, 
Nor care if fools should call my life infernal ; 

While men on earth crawl lazily about. 

Like snails upon the surface of the nut, 
We are, like maggots, feasting in the kernel. 

" Ist Dev. Bravo, by this glass. Meli, what say you ? 
" 3c? Dev. Come, here's to my Mina — I used to toast her in the upper re 
gions. 
*' Ist Dev. Ay, we miss them here. 

" Glee. 

" What's a woman good for? 

Rat me, sir, if I know. 
***** 

She's a savoi to tne glass, 

An excuse to make it pass. 



" 1st Dev. I fear we are like the wits above, who abuse women only be- 
cause they can't get them, — and, after all, it must be owned they are a 
pretty kind of creatures. 

" AIL Yes, y3s. 

" Catch. 

" 'Tis woman after all 

Is the blessing of this ball, 



'Tis she keeps the balance of it even. 



HIGHT HON". EICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 207 

"We are devils, it is true, 
But had we women too, 
Our Tartarus would turn to a Heaven !" 

A scene in the Third Act, where these devils bring the prison 
crs whom they have captured to trial, is an overcharged imita- 
tion of the satire of Fielding, and must have been written, 1 
think, after a perusal of that author's Satirical Romance, "A 
Journey from this World to the Next," — the first half of which 
contains as much genuine humor and fancy as are to be found in 
any other production of the kind. The interrogatories of Minos 
in that work suggested, I suspect, the following scene : — 

" Enter a number of Devils. — Others bring in LuDOVico. 

*' \st Lev. Just taken, in the wood, sir, with two more. 

'' Chorus of Devils. 
" Welcome, welcome * * * 



* * 



'' Pev. What art thou? 

" Ludov. I went for a man in the other world. 

^' Pev. What sort of a man ? 

" Ludov. A soldier at your service. 

" Pev. Wast thou in the battle of ? 

" Ludov. Truly I was. 

" Pev. What was the quarrel ? 

" Ludov. I never had time to ask. The childi'en of peace, who make 
' our quarrels, must be Your Worship's informants there. 

" Pev. And art thou not ashamed to draw the sword for thou know'st 
not what — and to be the victim and food of others' folly ? 

'•' Ladov. Yastiv. 

" Pev. {to the Devils.) Well, take him for to-day, and only scove his 
Bkiu and pepper it with powder — then chain him to a cannon, and let the 
Devils practise at his head — his be the reward who hits it with a single ball. 

" Ludov. Oh mercy, mercy ! 

*" Pev. Bring Savodi. 

{A Devil brings in Savodi.) 
" Chorus as before. 

*' Welcome, welcome, &0. 
" Pev. WTio art thou ? 
'* Sav. A courtier at Your Grace's service. 



208 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF TH:fi 

" Fev. Your name ? 

*^ Sav, Savodi, an' please Your Highnesses. 

" Pev, Your use ? 

'' Sav. A foolish utensil of state — a clock kept in the waiting-chamber, 
to count the hours. 

'' Pev. Are you not one of those who fawn and lie, and cringe like 
spaniels to those a little higher, and take revenge by tyranny on all be- 
neath ? 

" Sav. Most true, Your Highnesses. 

^' Pev. Is't not thy trade to promise what thou canst not do. — to gull the 
credulous of money, to shut the royal door on unassuming merit — to catch 
the scandal for thy master's ear, and stop the people's voice 

" Sav. Exactly, an' please Your Highnesses' Worships. 

" Pev. Thoti dost not now deny it ? 

'* Sav. Oh no, no, no. 

" Pev. Here — baths of flaming sulphur ! — quick — stir up the cauldron of 
boiling lead — this crime deserves it. 

" 1st Dev. Great Judge of this infernal place, allow him but the mercy 
of the court. 

*' Sav. Oh kind Devil ! — yes, Great Judge, allow. 

" Ist Dev. The punishment is undergone already — truth from him is 
something. 

" Sav. Oh, most unusual — sweet devil! 

" Ist Dev. Then, he is tender, and might not be able to endure — 

" Sav. Endure ! I shall be annihilated by the thoughts of it — dear devil. 

'' 1st Dev. Then let him, I beseech you, in scalding brimstone be first soak- 
ed a little, to inure and prepare him for the other. 

" Sav. Oh hear me, hear me. 

" Pev. Well, be it so. 

{Devils take him out and bring in Pamphiles.) 

'' Pev. This is he we rescued from the ladies — a dainty one, I warrant. 

*'• Pamphil. {affectedly.) This is Hell certainly by the smell. 

'' Pev. What, art thou a soldier too ? 

" Pamphil. No, on my life — a Colonel, but no soldier — innocent even of 
a review, as I exist. 

*' Pev. How rose you then ? come, come — the truth. 

" Pamphil. Nay, be fiot angry, sir — if I was preferred it was not my 
fault — upon my soul, I never did anything to incur preferment. 

^' Pev, Indeed ! what was thy employment then, friend? 

" Pamphil. Hunting — 



I<IGIIT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 209 

'' Pev, 'Tis false. 

" PamphiL Hunting women's reputations. 

" Pev, What, thou wert amorous ? 

" PamphiL No, on my honor, sir, but vain, confounded vain — the cha- 
racter of bringing down my game was all I wished, and, like a true sports- 
man, I would have given my birds to my pointers. 

" Pev. This crime is new — wha^ shall we do with him?'' &c. &c. 

This singular Drama does not appear to have been ever fin- 
ished. With respect to the winding up of the story, the hermit, 
we may conclude, would have turned out to be the banished 
counsellor, and the devils, his followers ; while the young hunts- 
man would most probably have proved to be the rightful heir 
of the dukedom. 

In a more crude and unfinished state are the fragments that 
remain of his projected opera of "The Foresters." To this 
piece (which appears to have been undertaken at a later period 
than the preceding one) Mr. Sheridan often alluded in conversa- 
tion — particularly when any regret was expressed at his having 
ceased to assist Old Drury with his pen, — " wait (he would say 
smiling) till I bring out my Foresters." The plot, as far as can 
be judged from the few meagre scenes that exist, was intended to 
be an improvement upon that of the Drama just described — the 
Devils being transformed into Foresters, and the action com- 
mencing, not with the loss of a son, but the recovery of a daugh- 
ter, who had fallen by accident into the hands of these free-boot- 
ers. At the opening of the piece the young lady has just been 
restored to her father by the heroic Captain of the Foresters, 
with no other loss than that of her heart, which she is suspected 
of having left with her preserver. The list of the Dramatis 
Personse (to which however he did not afterwards adhere) is as 
follows : — 

Old Oscar. 

Young Oscar. 

Colona. 

Morven. 

Harold. 

Nico. 



210 MEMOIHS OF O^HE LIFE OF THE 

Miza. 

Malvina. 

Allanda. 

Dorcas. 

Emma, 

To this strange medley of nomenclature is appended a memo- 
randum — " Vide Petrarch for names." 

The first scene represents the numerous lovers of Malvina re- 
joicing at her return, and celebrating it by a chorus ; after which 
Oscar, her father, holds the following dialogue with one of 
them : — 

" Osc. I thought, son, you would have been among the first and most 
eager to see Malvina upon her retui*n. 

'' Oolin. Oh, father, I would give half my flock to think that my pre- 
sence would be welcome to her. 

" Osc. I am sure you have never seen her preftr any one else. 

^^ Col. There's the torment of it — were I but once siu-e that she loved 
another better, I think I should be content — at least she should not know 
but that I was so. My love is not of that jealous sort that I should pine 
to see her happy with another — nay, I could even regard the man that 
would make her so. 

'' Osc, Haven't you spoke with her since her return ? 

" Col. Yes, and I think she is colder to me than ever. My professlonfl 
of love used formerly to make her laugh, but now they make her weep — 
formerly she seemed wholly insensible ; now, alas, she seems to feel — but 
as if addressed by the wi-oug person," &c. &c. 

In a following scene are introduced two brothers, both equally 
enamored of the fair Malvina, yet preserving their affection un- 
altered towards each other. With the recollection of Sheridan's 
own story fresh in our mmds, we might suppose that he meant 
some reference to it in this incident, were it not for the exceed- 
ing niaiserie that he has thrown into the dialogue. For in- 
stance : — 

'' Osc. But we are interrupted — here are two more of her lovers — bro- 
thers, and rivals, bu : friends. 



BiaHT HOK. EICHARD BRlNSLEY SHERIDAN. 211 

" Enter Nico and Lubin. 

" So, Nico — how comes it' you are so late in your inquiries after your 
mistress ? 

" Nico. I should have been sooner ; but Lubin would stay to make 1dm- 
self fine — though ht knows that he has no chance of appearing so to Mai- 
vina. 

" T/uhin. No, in truth — Nico says right — I have no more chance than 
himself. 

'^ Osc, However, I am glad to see you reconciled, and that you live to- 
gether, as brothers should do. 

" Nico. Yes, ever since we found your daughter cared for neither of us, 
we grew to care for one another. There is a fellowship in adversity that 
is consoling ; and it is something to think that Lubin is as unfortunate as 
myself. 

" Luh. Yes, we are well matched — I think Malvina dislikes him, if pos- 
ible, more than me, and that's a great comfort 

" Nico. We often sit together, and play such woeful tunes on our pipes, 
that the very sheep are moved at it. 

^' Osc. But why don't you rouse yourselves, and, since you can meet 
with no requital of your passion, return the proud maid scorn for scorn? 

" Nico. Oh mercy, no — we find a great comfort in our sorrow — don't we, 
Lubin? 

^' Lubin. Yes, if T meet no crosses, I shall be undone in another twelve- 
month — I let all go to wreck and ruin. 

'' Osc. But suppose Malvina should be brought to give you encourage- 
ment. 

" Nico. Heaven forbid ! that would spoil all. 

" Lubin. Truly I was almost assured within this fortnight that she was 
going to relax. 

" Nico. Ay, I shall never forget how alarmed we were at the appearance 
of a smile one day," &c. &c. 

Of the poetical part of this opera, the only specimens he has 
left are a skeleton of a chorus, beginning " Bold Foresters we 
are," and the following song, which, for grace and tenderness, is 
not unworthy of the hand that produced the Duenna : — 

" We two, each other's only pride, 
Each other-s bliss, each other's guide, 
Far from the world's unhallow'd noise, 
Its coarse delights and tainted joys, 



212 Memoirs of the life of the 

Through wilds will roam and deserts rude — 
For, Love, thy home is solitude. 

" There shall no vain pretender be, 
To court thy smile and torture me. 
No proud superior there be seen. 
But nature's voice shall hail thee, queen. 

" With fond respect and tender awe, 
I will receive thy gentle law, 
Obey thy looks, and serve thee still. 
Prevent thy wish, foresee thy will. 
And, added to a lover's care, 
Be all that friends and parents are." 

But, of all Mr. Sheridan's unfinished designs, the Comedy 
which he meditated on the subject of Affectation is that of which 
the abandonment is most to be regretted. To a satirist, who 
would not confine his ridicule to the mere outward deraonstra 
tions of this folly, but would follow and detect it through all its 
windings and disguises, there could hardly perhaps be a more 
fertile theme. Affectation, merely of manner^ being itself a 
sort of acting, does not easily admit of any additional coloring 
on the stage, without degenerating into farce ; and, accordingly, 
fops and fine ladies — with very few exceptions — are about as silly 
and tiresome in representation as in reality. But the aim of 
the dramatist, in this comedy, would have been far more impor- 
tant and extensive ; — and how anxious he was to keep before his 
mind's eye the whole wide horizon of folly which his subject 
opened upon him, will appear from the following list of the 
various species of Affectation, which I have found written by 
him, exactly as I give it, on the inside cover of the memoran- 
dum-book, that contains the only remaining vestiges of this 
play ;— 

" An Affectation of Business. 

of Accomplishments, 
of Love of Letters and Wit 
Music. 



RIGHT HON". RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERICAlSr 213 

of Intrigue. 

ol Sensibility. 

of Vivacity. 

of Silence and Importance. 

of Modesty. 

of Profligacy. 

of Moroseness." 

In this projected comedy he does not seem to have advanced 
as flir as even the invention of the plot or the^composition of a 
single scene. The memorandum-book alluded to~on the hrst 
leaf of which he had written in his neatest hand (as if to encour- 
age himself to begin) "Affectation" — contains, besides the names 
of three of the intended personages, Sir Babble Bore, Sir Pere- 
grine Paradox, and Feignwit, nothing but unembodied sketches 
of character, and scattered particles of wit, which seem waiting, 
like the imperfect forms and seeds in chaos, for the brooding of 
genius to nurse them into system and beauty. 

The reader will not, I think, be displeased at seeing some of 
these curious naaterials here. They will show that in this work, 
as well as in the School for Scandal, he was desirous of making 
the vintage of his w^it as rich as possible, by distilling into it 
every drop that the collected fruits of his thought and fancy 
could supply. Some of the jests are far-fetched, and others^ 
perhaps, abortive — but it is pleasant to track him in his pursuit 
of a point, even when he misses. The very failures of a man of 
real wit are often more delightful than the best successes of 
others — the quick-silver, even in escaping from his grasp, shines ; 
'• it still eludes him, but it glitters still." 

I shall give the memorandums as I find them, with no other 
difference, than that of classing together those that have relation 
to the same thought or subject. 

*• Character — Mr. Bustle. 

*' A man who delights in hurry and interruption — will take any one's 
business for them — leaves word where all his plagues may follow liim — 
governor of all hospitals, &c. — .^hare in Raneiagh — speaker every where, 
from the Vestrj to the House of Commons — • I am not at borne — gad, now 



214 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

he heard me and I must be at home.' — ' Here am I so plagued, and there is 
nothing I love so much as retirement and quiet.' — 'You never sent after 
me.' — Let servants call in to him such a message as ' *Tis nothing but the 
window tax,' he hiding in a room that communicates. — A young man tells 
him some important business in the middle of fifty trivial interruptions, 
and the calling in of idlers ; such as fidlers, wild-beast men, foreigners with 
recommendatory letters, t^"c. — answers notes on his knee, ' and so your 
uncle died? — for your obliging inquiries—and left you an orphan — to 
cards in the evening.' 

''*Can'tbear to be doing nothing. — ' Can I do anything for any body any 
where ?' — ' Have been to the Secretary — written to the Treasury.' — ' Must 
proceed to meet the Commissioners, and write Mr. Price's little boy's exer- 
cise.' — The most active idler and laborious trifler. 

" He does not in reality love business — only the appearance of it. ' Ha ! 
ha ! did my Lord say that I was always very busy ? What, plagued to 
death?' 

'' Keeps all his letters and copies — ' Mem. to meet the Hackney-coach 
Commissioners — to arbitrate between,' &c. &c. 

'' Contrast with the man of indolence, his brother. — ' So, brother, just 
up! and I have been,' &c. &c. — one will give his money from indolent 
generosity, the other his time from restlessness — ' 'Twill be shorter to pay 
the bill than look for the receipt.' — Files letters, answered and unanswered 
— ' Why, here are more unopened than answered !' 



'^ He regulates every action by a love for fashion — will grant annuitiea 
though he doesn't want money — ap])ear to intrigue, though constant ; to 
drink, though sober — has some fashionable vices — affects to be distressed in 
his circumstances, and, when his new vis-a-vis comes out, procures a judg- 
ment to be entered against him — wants to lose, but by ill-luck wins five 
thousand pounds. 



^' One who changes sides in all arguments the moment any one agrees 
with him. 

" An Irresolute arguer, to whom it is a great misfortune that there are 
not three sides to a question— a libertine in argument ; conviction, like 
enjoyment, palls him, and his rakish understanding is soon satiated with 
truth— more capable of being faithful to a paradox — ' I love truth as I do 
my wife ; but sophistry and paradoxes are my mistresses — I have a strong 
domestic respect for her, but for the other the passion due to a mistiess.' 

^' One, -who agrees with every one, for the pleasure of speaking their 
sentiments for them — so fond of talking that he does not contradict only 
because he can't wait to hear people out. 

'' A tripping casuist, who veers by others' breath, and gets od t<o iuforma- 



EIGHT HON. KICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 215 

fcioa by tacking between the two sides — like a boy, not made to go straight 
before the wind. 
4 ^* The more he talks, the further he is off the argument, like a bowl on 

a wrong bias. 



" What are the affectations you chiefly dislike ? 

" There are many in this company, so I'll mention others. — To see ivr 
people affecting intrigue, having their assignations in public places only , 
he affecting a warm pursuit, and the lady, acting the hesitation of retreat- 
ing virtue — 'Pray, ma'am, don't you think,' &c. — while neither party have 
words between 'em to conduct the preliminaries of gallantry, nor passion 
to pursue the object of it. 

*' A plan of public flirtation — not to get beyond a profile. 

\ 

^' Then I hate to see one, to whom heaven has given real beauty, set- 
tling her features at the glass of fashion, while she speaks — not thinking 
so much of what she says as how she looks, and more careful of the action 
of her lips than of what shall come from them. 



" A pretty woman studying looks and endeavoring to recollect an ogle, 

like Lady , who has learned to play her eyelids like Yenetian blinds.* 

'' An old woman endeavoring to put herself back to a girl. 



■^ A true-trained wit lays his plan like a general — foresees the circum- 
, stances of the conversation — surveys the ground and contingencies — de- 
taches a question to draw you into the palpable ambuscade of his ready- 
made joke. 

*' A man intriguing, only for the reputation of it — to his confidential 
servant : ' "^Yho am I in love with now ?' — ' The newspapers give you so 
and so — you are laying close siege to Lady L., in the Morning Post, and 
have succeeded with Lady G. in the Herald — Sir F. is very jealous of you 
in the Gazetteer.' — ' Remember to-morrow the first thing you do, to put 
rne in love with Mrs. C 

** ' I forgot to forget the billet-doux at Brooks's.' — ' By the bye, an't 
I in love with you?' — ' Lady L. has promised to meet me in her carriage 
to-morrow — where is the most public place ?' 

" ' You were rude to her !' — ' Oh, no, upon my soul, I made love to her 
directly.' 

" An old man, who affects intrigue, and writes his own reproaches in 
the Morning Post, trying to scandalize himself into the reputation of being 

* This simile is repeated in various shapes through his manuscripts— " She moves her 
eyes up and down Uie Venetian blinds"—" Her eyelids play like a Venetian blind," 
&c &c. 



216 ' MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF TH:S 

young, as if he could obscure his age by blotting his character — though 
never so little candid as when he's abusing himself. 



" ' Shall you be at Lady -'s? — I'm told the Bramin is to be there, 

and the new French philosopher.' — ' No — it will be pleasanter at Lady 
's conversazione — the cow with two heads will be there.' 



*' ' I shall order my valet to shoot me the very first thing he does in the 
morning.' 



" * You are yourself affected and don't know it — you would pass for mo- 
rose.* 

" He merely wanted to be singular, and happened to find the character 
of moroseness unoccupied in the society he lived with. 

" He certainly has a great deal of fancy and a very good memory ; but 
with a perverse ingenuity he employs these qualities as no other person 
does — for he employs his fancy in his narratives, and keeps his recollec- 
tions for his wit — when he makes his jokes you applaud the accuracy of 
his memory, and 'tis only when he states his facts that you admire the 
flights of his imagination.* 



" A fat woman trundling into a room on castors — in sitting can only 
lean against her chair — rings on her fingers, and her fat arms strangled 
with bracelets, which belt them like corded brawn — rolling and heaving 
when she laughs with the rattles in her throat, and a most apoplectic ogle 
— you wish to draw her out, as you would an opera-glass. 



" A long lean man with all his limbs rambling — no way to reduce him 
to compass, unless you could double him like a pocket rule — with his arms 
spread, he'd lie on the bed of Ware like a cross on a Good Friday bun — 
standing still, he is a pilaster without a base — he appeal's rolled out or run 
up against a wall — so thin that his front face is but the moiety of a profile 
— if he stands cross-legged, he looks like a caduceus, and put him in a 
fencing attitude, you will take him for a piece of chevaux-de-frise — to 
nmke any use of him, it must be as a spontoon or a fishing-rod — ^Avhen his 
wife's by, he follows like a note of admiration — see them together, one's a 
mast, and the other all hulk — she's a dome and he's built like a glass-house 
—when they part, you wonder to see the steeple separate from the chancel, 
and were they to embrace, he must hang round her neck like a skein of 
thread on a lace-maker's bolster — to sing her praise you should choose a 
rondeau, and to celebrate him you must write all Alexandrines. 

* T.tie reader will find how much this iboug-iit was improved upon afterwards. 



RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 217 

" I wouldnH give a pin to make fine men in love with me — every co- 
quette can do that, and the pain you give these creatures is very trifling. 
I love out-of-the-way conquests ; and as I think my attractions are singular, 
I would draw singular objects. 

" The loadstone of true beauty draws the heaviest substances — not like 
the fat dowager, who frets herself into warmth to get the notice of a few 
papier machi fops, as you rub Dutch sealing-wax to draw paper. 



" If I were inclined to flatter I would say that, as you are unlike other 
women, you ought not to be won as they are. Every woman can be gained 
by time, therefore you ought to be by a sudden impulse. Sighs, devotion, 
attention weigh with others ; but they are so much your due that no one 
should claim merit from them 

" You should not be swayed by common motives — how heroic to form a 
marriage for which no human being can guess the inducement — what a 
glorious unaccountableness ! All the world will wonder what the devil 
you could see in me ; and, if you should doubt your singularity, I pledge 
myself to you that I never yet was endured by woman ; so that I should 
owe every thing to the effect of your bounty, and not by my own super- 
fluous deserts make it a debt, and so lessen both the obligation and my 
gratitude. In short, every other woman follows her inclination, but you, 
above all things, should take me, if you do not like me. You will, be- 
sides, have the satisfaction of knowing that we are decidedly the worst 
match in the kingdom — a match, too, that must be all your own work, 
in which fate could have no hand, and which no foresight could foresee. 



" A lady who affects poetry. — ' I made regular approaches to her by 
sonnets and rebusses— a rondeau of circumvallation — her pride sapped by 
an elegy, and her reserve surprised by an impromptu — proceeding to 
storm with Pindarics, she, at last, saved the further effusion of ink by a 
capitulation.' 



•' Her prudish frowns and resentful looks are as ridiculous as 'twould 
be to see a board with notice of spring-guns set in a highway, or of 
steel-traps in a common— because they imply an insinuation that there ia 
something worth plundering where one would not, in the least, suspect it. 

" The expression o.' her face is at once a denial of all love-suit, and a 
confession that she never was asked — the sourness of it arises not so much 
from her aversion to the passion, as from her never having had an oppor- 
tunity to show it.— Her features are so unfortunately formed that she 
could never dissemble or put on sweetness enough to induce any one to 
give her occasion to show her bitterness. — I never saw a woman to whom 
you would more readily give credit for perfect chastity. 

VOL. I. JO 



218 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

" Lady Clio. ' What am I reacting ?' — ^ have I drawn nothing lately ? — 
is the work-bag finished ? — how accomplished I am ! — has the man been to 
untune the harpsichord ? — does it look as if I had been playing on it ? 

" ' Shall I be ill to-day? — shall I be nervous?- — ' Your La'ship was ner- 
vous yesterday.'—* Was I ? — then I'll have a cold — I haven't had a cold this 
fortnight — a cold is becoming — no — I'll not have a cough ; that's fatiguing 
— I'll be quite well.' — ' You become sickness — your La'ship always looks 
vastly well when you're ill. ' 

'' ' Leave the book half read and the rose half finished — you know I love 
to be caught in the fact.' 



'* One who knows that no credit is ever given to his assertions has the 

3re right to contradict his words. 

*' He goes the western circuit, to pick up small fees and impudence. 



" A new wooden leg for Sir Charles Easy. 



'• An ornament which proud peers wear all the year round — chimney- 
SAveepers only on the first of May. 



" In marriage if you possess any thing very good, it makes you eager to 
get every thing else good of the same sort. 



*' The critic when he ge"ts out of his carriage should always recollect, 
that his footman behind is gone up to judge as well as himself. 



" She might have escaped in her own clothes, but I suppose she thought 
it more romantic to put on her brother's regimentals." 

The rough sketches and fragments of poems, which Mr. Sheri- 
dan left behind him, are numerous ; but those among them that 
are sufficiently finished to be cited, bear the marks of having 
been wiitten wnen he Tas very young, and would not much in- 
terest the :^eader -while of the rest it is difficult to find four con- 
secutive lines, that have undergone enough of the toilette of com- 

7 DO 

position to be presentable in print. It was his usual practice, 
when he undertook any subject Ji verse, to write down his thoughts 
first in a sort of poetical prose, — with, here and there, a rhyme or 
a metrical line, as thev might occur — and then, afterwards to reduce 
with much labor, this anomalous compound to regular poetry. 
The birth of his prose being, as we have already seen, so diffi- 



RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 219 

cult, it may be imagined how painfal was the travail of his verse. 
Indeed, the number of tasks which he left unfinished are all so 
many proofs of that despair of perfection, which tljose best quali- 
fied to attain it are always most likely to feel. 

There are some fragments of an Epilogue apparently intended 
to be spoken in the character of a woman of flishion, which give a 
lively notion of what the poem would have been, when complete. 
The high carriages, that had just then come into fashion, are thus 
adverted to r — 

" My carriage stared at ! — none so high or fine — 

Palmer's mail-coach shall be a sledge to mine. 
* * * * * * 

No longer now the youths beside us stand. 
And talking lean, and leaning press the hand ; 
But ogling upward, as aloft we sit, 
Straining, poor things, their ankles and their wit, 
And, much too short the inside to explore, 
Hang like supporters, half way up the door.'' 

The approach of a " veteran husband," to disturb these fllrta 
tions and chase away the lovers, is then hinted at : — 

" To persecuted virtue yield assistance, 
And for one hour teach younger men their distance, 
Make them, in very spite, appear discreet, 
And mar the public mysteries of the street." 

The affectation of appearing to make love, while talking on 

mdifferent matters, is illustrated by the following simile : 

• 

" So when dramatic statesmen talk ap.irt, 
With practis'd gesture and heroic start, 
The plot's their theme, the gaping galleries guess, 
While Hull and Fearon think or nothing less." 

The following lines seem to belong to the same Epilogue : — 

" The Campus Martins of St. James's Street, 
Where the beau's cavalry pace to and fro, 
Before they take the field in Rotten Row , 



220 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

Where Brooks' Blues and Weltze's Light Dragoons 
Dismount in files and ogle in platoons." 

He had also begun another Epilogue, directed against female 
gamesters, of which he himself repeated a couplet or two to 
Mr. Rogers a short time before his death, and of which there 
remain some few scattered traces among his papers : — 

" A night of fretful passion may consume 
All that thou hast of beauty's gentle bloom, 
And one distemper'd hour of sordid fear 

Print on thy brow the wrinkles of a year.* 

* * * * * 

Great figure loses, little figure wins. 

* * * ♦ 

Ungrateful blushes and disordered sighs, 

TVTiich love disclaims nor even shame supplies. 

* * * * « 

Gay smiles, which once belonged to mirth alone, 
And startling tears, which pity dares not own." 

The following stray couplet would seem to have been mtended 
for his description of Gorilla : — 

^^ A crayon Cupid, redd'ning into shape, 
Betrays her talents to design and scrape." 

The Epilogue, which I am al)0ut to give, though apparently 
finished, has not, as far as I can learn, yet appeared in print, nor 
am I at all aware for what occasion it was intended. 

•' In this gay month when, through the sultry hour, 
The vernal sun denies the wonted shower, 
When youihfal Spring usurps maturer sway, 
And pallid April steals the blush of May, 
How joys the rustic tribe, to view displayed 
The liberal blossom and the early shade ! 
But ah ! far other air our soil delights ; 
Here ' charming weather ' is the worst of blights. 

* These four lines, as I have already remarked, are taken — with liule change of the 
words, but a total alteration of the sentiment — from the verses which he addressed to 
Mrs. Sheridan in the year 1773. See page 83. 



RIGHT HON. RICHAHD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 221 

No genial beams rejoice om' rustic train, 
Their harvest's still the better for the rain. 
To summer suns our groves no tribute owe, 
They thrive in frost, and flourish bCvSt in snow. 
When other woods resound the feather 'd throng, 
Our groves, our woods, are destitute of song. 
The thrush, the lark, all leave our mimic vale, 
No more we boast our Christmas nightingale ; 
Poor Rossignol — the wonder of his day, 
Sung through the winter — ^but is mute in May. 
Then bashful spring, that gilds fair nature's scene, 
O'ercasts our lawns, and deadens every green ; ^ 

Obscures our sky, embrowns the wooden shade, 
And dries the channel of each tin cascade ! 
Oh hapless we, whom such ill fate betides, 
Hurt by the beam which cheers the world besides ! 
Who love the liug'ring^ frost, nice, chilling showers, 
While Nature's ^e?i 9?^ — is death to ours.; 
Who, witch-like, best in noxious mists perform, 
Thrive in the tempest, and enjoy the storm. 
hapless we — unless your generous care 
Bids us no more lament that Spring is fair, 
But plenteous glean from the dramatic soil. 
The vernal harvest of our winter's toil. 
For, April suns to us no pleasure bring — 
Your presence here is all we feel of Spring ; 
May's riper beauties here no bloom display, 
Your fostering smile alone proclaims it May." 

A poem upon Windsor Castle, half ludicrous and half solemn, 
appears, from the many experiments which he made upon it, to 
have cost him considerable trouble. The Castle, he says, 

" Its base a mountain, and itself a rock, 
In proud defiance cf the tempests' rage, 
Like an old gray-hair'd veteran stands each shock — 
The sturdy witness of a nobler age." 

He then alludes to the " cockney" improvements that had 
lately taken place, among which the venerable castle appears, like 

. " A helmet on a Macaroni's head — 
Or like old Talbot, turn'd into a fop, 
With coat embroider 'd and scratch wig at top." 



222 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

Some verses, of the same mixed character, on the short dura- 
tion of life and the changes that death produces, thus begki : — 

" Of that same tree which gave the box, 
Now rattling in the hand of FOX, 
Perhaps his coffin shall be made. — " 

He then rambles mto prose, as was his custom, on a sort of 
knight-errantry after thoughts and images : — " The lawn thou 
hast chosen for thy bridal shift — thy shroud may be of the same 
piece. That flower thou hast bought to feed thy vanity — from 
the same tree thy corpse may be decked. Reynolds shall, like 
his colors, fly ; and Brown, when mingled with the dust, manure 
the grounds he once laid out. Death is life's second childhood ; 
we return to the breast from whence we came, are weaned, * ^." 

There are a few detached lines and couplets of a poem, in- 
tended to ridicule some fliir invalid, who was much given to fall- 
ing in love with her physicians : — 

" Who felt her pulse, obtained her heart." 

The following couplet, in which he characterizes an amiable 
friend of his. Dr. Bain, with whom he did not become acquainted 
till the year 1792, proves these fragments to have been written 
afl;er that period : — 

" Not savage * * * nor gentle Bain — 
She was in love with Warwick Lane." 

An " Address to the Prince," on the exposed style of women's 
dress, consists of little more than single lines, not yet wedded 
into couplets ; such as — " The more you show, the less we wish 
to see." — " And bare their bodies, as they mask their minds," 
&;c. This poem, however, must have been undertaken m*iny 
years after his entrance into Parliament, as the following curious 
political memorandum will prove : — " I like it no better for being 
from France — whence all ills come — altar of liberty, begrimed 
at once with blood and mire." 



liiaHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 223 

There are also some Anacreontics — lively, but boyish and ex- 
travagant. For instance, in expressing his iove of bumpers : — 

*• Were mine a goblet that had room 
For a whole vintage in its womb, 
I still would have the liquor swim 
An inch or two above the brim.'' 

The following specimen is from one of those poems, v^hose 
length and completeness prove them to have been written at a 
time of life when he was more easily pleased, and had not yet 
arrived at that state of glory and torment for the poet, when 

" Toujours raicontent de ce qu'il inent de faire^ 
11 plait a tout le monde et ne scaur ait se plaire ;'' — 

*' The Muses call'd, the other morning, 

On Phoebus, with a friendly warning 

That invoc^ions came so fast. 

They must give up their trade at last, 

And if he meant t' assist them all. 

The aid of Nine would be too small. 

Me then, as-^lerk, the Council chose, 

To tell this truth in humble prose. — 

But Phoebus, possibly intending ^ 

To show what all their hopes must end in, 

To give the scribbling youths a sample. 

And frighten them by my example. 

Bade me ascend the poet's throne, 

And give them verse — much like their own. 
" Who has not heard each poet sing 

The powers of Heliconian spring ? 

Its noblv virtues we are told 

By all the rLymlng crew of old. — 

Drink but a little of its well, 

And strait you could both write and spell. 

While such rhyme -giving pow'rs run through 1'. 

A quart would make an epic poet," &c. &c. 

A poem on the miseries of a literary drudge *":egins thus pro- 
misingly : — 

*' Think ye how dear the sickly meal is Dougut, 
By him who works at verse and trades in thought ?^' 



224 MEHOIRS OF THE LIFE OF TPlE 

The rest is hardly legible ; but there can be little doubt that 
he would have done this subject justice; — for he had himself 
tasted of the bitterness with which the heart of a man of genius 
overflows, when forced by indigence to barter away (as it is here 
expressed) ^* the reversion of his thoughts,'' and 

" Forestall the blighted harvest of his brain." 

It mil be easily believed that, in looking over the remains, 
both dramatic and poetical, from which the foregoing specimens 
are taken, I have been frequently tempted to indulge in much 
ampler extracts. It appeared to me, however, more prudent to 
rest satisfied with the selections here given ; for, while less would 
have disappointed the curiosity of the reader, more might have 
done injustice to the memory of the author. 



RIGHT HON. RICHAKD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 225 



CHAPTER Yin. 

HIS FIRST SPEECHES IN PARLIAMENT. — ROCKINGHAM AD- 
MINISTRATION. — COALITION. — INDIA BILL. — RE-ELEC- 
TION FOR STAFFORD. 

The period at which Mr. Sheridan entered upon his political 
career was, in every respect, remarkable. A persevering and 
vindictive war against Americaj wath the folly and guilt of which 
the obstinacy of the Court and the acquiescence of the people 
are equally chargeable, was fast approaching that crisis, w^hich 
every unbiassed spectator of the contest had long foreseen, — and 
at- which, however humiliating to the haughty pretensions of Eng- 
land, every friend to the liberties of the hum.an race rejoiced. 
It was, perhaps, as difficult for this country to have been long 
and virulently opposed to such principles as the Americans as- 
serted in this contest, without being herself corrupted by tlie 
cause which she maintained, as it was for the French to have 
fought, in the same conflict, by the side of the oppressed, without 
catching a portion of that enthusiasm for liberty, which such an 
alliance was calculated to inspire. Accordingly, while the voice 
of philosophy was heard along the neighboring shores, speaking 
aloud those oracular warnings, which preceded the death of the 
Great Pan of Despotism, the courtiers and lawyers of England 
were, with an emulous spirit of servility, advising and sanctioning 
such strides of power, as would not have been unworthy of the 
most dark and slavish times. 

When we review, indeed, the history of the late reign, and 
consider how invariably the arms and councils of Great Britain, 
in her Eastern wars, her conflict with America, and her efforts 
against revolutionary France, were directed to the establishment 

VOL. I. _ 10* 



226 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THHJ 

and perpetuation of despotic principles, it seems little less than 
a miracle that her own liberty should have escaped with life from 
the contagion. Never, indeed, can she be sufficiently grateful to 
the few patriot spirits of this period, to w^hose courage and elo- 
quence she owes the high station of freedom yet left to her ; — 
never can her sons pay a homage too warm to the memory of 
such men as a Chatham, a Fox, and a Sheridan ; who, however 
much they may have sometimes sacrificed to false views of ex- 
pediency, and, by compromise with friends and coalition with 
foes, too often weakened their hold upon public confidence ; how- 
ever the attraction of the Court may have sometimes made them 
iibrate in their orbit, were yet the saving lights of Liberty in 
those times, and alone preserved the ark of the Constitution 
from foundermg in the foul and troubled waters that encom- 
passed it. 

Not only were the public events, in which Mr. Sheridan was 
now^ called to take a part, of a nature more extraordinary and 
awful than had often been exhibited on the theatre of politics, 
but the leading actors in the scene were of that loftier order of 
intellect, which Nature seems to keep in reserve for the emioble- 
ment of such great occasions. Two of these, Mr. Burke and 
Mr. Fox, were already in the full maturity of their fame and 
talent, — while the third, Mr. Pitt, was just upon the point of 
entering, with the most auspicious promise, into the same splen- 
did career : 

" Nunc cuspide Patris 
InclytuSj Herculeas olim moture sagittas^ 

Though the administration of that day, like many other min- 
istries of the same reign, was chosen more for the pliancy than 
the strength of its materials, yet Lord North himself was no or- 
dinary man, and, in times of less difficulty and under less obsti- 
nate dictation, might have ranked as a useful and most popular 
minister. It is true, as the defenders of his measures state, that 
some of the worst aggressions upon the rights of the Colonies 
had been committed before he succeeded to power. But his 
readiness to follow in these rash foctsteps, and to deepen every 



EIGHT HON. BICHARD BRIKSLEV SHERIDAN. 227 

fatal impression which they had made ; — his insulting reservation 
of the Tea Duty, by which he contrived to embitter the only 
measure of concession that was wrung from him ; — the obse- 
quiousness, with which he made himself the channel of the vin- 
dictive feelings of the Court, in that memorable declaration 
(rendered so truly mock-heroic by the event) that " a total repeal 
of the Port Duties could not be thought of, till America was 
prostrate at the feet of England :" — all deeply uivolve him in 
the shame of that disastrous period, and identify his name with 
measures as arbitrary and headstrong, as have ever disgraced 
the annals of the English monarchy. 

The playful wit and unvarying good-humor of this nobleman 
formed a striking contrast to the harsh and precipitate policy, 
which it was his lot, during twelve stormy years, to enforce : — 
and, if his career was as headlong as the torrent near its fall, 
it may also be said to have been as shining and as smooth. 
These attractive qualities secured to him a considerable share of 
personal popularity ; and, had fortune ultimately smiled on his 
councils, success would, as usual, have reconciled the people of 
England to any means, however arbitrary, by which it had been 
attained. But the calamities, and, at last, the hopelessness of 
the conflict, inclined them to moralize upon its causes and char- 
acter. The hour of Lord North's ascendant was now passing 
rapidly away, and Mr. Sheridan could not have joined the Op- 
position, at a conjuncture more favorable to the excitement of 
his powers, or more bright in the views which it opened upon his 
ambition. 

He made his first speech in Parliament on the 20th of No- 
vember, 1780, when a petition was presented to the House, com- 
plaining of the undue election of the sitting members (himself 
and Mr. Monckton) for Stafford. It was rather lucky for him 
that the occasion was one in which he felt personally interested, 
as it took away much of that appearance of anxiety for display, 
which might have attended his first exhibition upon any general 
subject. The fame, however, w^hich he had already acquired by 
his literary talents, was sufficient, even on this question, to awaken 



228 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

all the curiosity and expectation of his audience ; and according- 
ly we are told in the report of his speech, that " he was heard 
with particular attention, the House being uncommonly still 
while he was speaking." The indignation, which he expressed 
on this occasion at the charges brought by the petition against 
the electors of Stafford, was coolly turned into ridicule by Mr. 
Rigby, Paymaster of the Forces. But Mr. Fox, whose eloquence 
was always ready at the call of good nature, and, like the shield 
of Ajax, had " ample room and verge enough," to protect not 
only himself but his friends, came promptly to the aid of the 
young orator ; and, in reply to Mr. Rigby, observed, that " though 
those ministerial members, who chiefly robbed and plundered 
their constituents, might afterwards affect to despise them, yet 
gentlemen, who felt properly the nature of the trust allotted to 
them, would always treat them and speak of them with respect." 

It was on this night, as Woodfall used to relate, that Mr. 
Sheridan, after he had spoken, came up to him in the gallery, 
and asked, with much anxiety, what he thought of his first at- 
tempt. The answer of Woodfall, as he had the courage after- 
w^ards to own, was, " I am sorry to say I do not think that this 
is your line — you had much better have stuck to your former 
pursuits." On hearing which, Sheridan rested his head upon his 
hand for a few minutes, and then vehemently exclaimed, " It is 
in me, however, and, by G — , it shall come out." 

It appears, indeed, that upon many persons besides Mr. Wood- 
fall the impression produced by this first essay of his oratory 
was far from answerable to the expectations that had been 
formed. The chief defect remarked in him was a thick and in- 
distinct mode of delivery, which, though he afterwards greatly 
corrected it, was never entirely removed. 

It is not a little amusing to find him in one of his early 
speeches, gravely rebuking Mr. Rigby and Mr. Courtenay* for 
the levity and raillery with M^hich they treated the subject be- 
fore the House, — thus condemning the use of that weapon in 

♦ Feb. 26.— On the second reading of the Bill for the better regulation of His Majesty's 
Civil List Revenue 



RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 229 

other hands, which soon after became so formidable in his own. 
The remarks by which Mr. Courtenay (a gentleman, whose live- 
ly wit found afterwards a more congenial air on the benches of 
the Opposition) provoked the reprimand of the new senator for 
Stafford, are too humorous to be passed over without, at least, a 
specimen of their spirit. In ridiculing the conduct of the Op- 
position, he observed : — 

" Oh liberty ! Oh virtue ! Oh my country ! had been the pathetic, though 
fallacious cry of former Oppositions ; but the present he was sure acted on 
purer motives. They wept over their bleeding country, he had no doubt. 
Yet the patriot ' eye in a fine frenzy rolling' sometimes deigned to cast 
a wishful squint on the riches and honors enjoyed by the minister and his 
venal supporters. If he were not apprehensive of hazarding a ludicrous 
allusion, (which he knew was always improper on a serious subject) he 
would compare their conduct to that of the sentimental alderman in one of 
Hogarth's prints, who, when his daughter is expiring, wears indeed a pa- 
rental face of grief and solicitude, but it is to secure her diamond ring which 
he is drawing gently from her finger." 

" Mr. Sheridan (says the report) rose and reprehended Mr. Courtenay 
for turning every thing that passed into ridicule ; for having introduced 
into the house a style of reasoning, in his opinion, every way unsuitable to 
the gravity and importance of the subjects that came under their discus- 
sion. If they would not act with dignity ,^ he thought they might, at least, 
debate with decency. He would not attempt to answer Mr. Courtenay's 
arguments, for it was impossible seriously to reply to what, in every part, 
had an infusion of ridicule in it. Two of the honorable gentlemen's similes, 
however, he must take notice of The one was his having insinuated that 
the Opposition was envious of those who basked in court sunshine ; and de- 
sirous merely to get into their places. He begged leave to remind the honor- 
able gentleman that, though the sun afforded a genial warmth, it also oc- 
casioned an intemperate heat, that tainted and infected everything it re- 
flected on. That this excessive heat tended to corrupt as well as to cherish ; 
to putrefy as well as to animate ; to dry and soak up the wholesome juices of 
the body politic, and turn the whole of it into one mass of corruption. If 
those, therefore, who sat near him did not enjoy so genial a warmth as the 
honorable gentleman, and those who like him kept close to the noble 
Lord in the blue ribbon, he was certain they breathed a purer air, an air 
less infected and less corrupt." 

This florid style, in which Mr. Sheridan was not very happy, 
he but rarely used in liis speeches afterwards, 



280 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

The first important subject that drew forth any thing like a 
display of his oratory was a motion which he made on the 5th 
of March, 1781, " For the better regulation of the Police of 
Westminster." The chief object of the motion was to expose 
the unconstitutional exercise of the prerogative that had been 
assumed, in employing the military to suppress the late riots, 
without waiting for the authority of the civil power. These dis- 
graceful riots, which proved to what Christianly consequences 
the cry of " No Popery" may lead, had the effect, which follows 
all tumultuary movements of the people, of arming the Govern- 
ment with new powers, and giving birth to doctrines and prece- 
dents permanently dangerous to liberty. It is a little remark- 
able that the policy of blending the army with the people and 
considering soldiers as citizens, which both Montesquieu and 
Blackstone recommend as favorable to freedom, should, as ap- 
plied by Lord Mansfield on this occasion, be pronounced, and 
perhaps with more justice, hostile to it ; the tendency of such a 
practice being, it was said, to weaken that salutary jealousy, 
with which the citizens of a free state should ever regard a sol- 
dier, and thus familiarize the use of this dangerous machine, in 
every possible service to which capricious power may apply it. 
The Opposition did not deny that the measure of ordering out 
the military, and empowering their officers to act at discretion 
without any reference to the civil magistrate, was, however un- 
constitutional, not only justifiable but wise, in a moment of such 
danger. But the refusal of the minister to acknowledge the ille- 
gality of the proceeding by applying to the House for an Act of 
Indemnity, and the transmission of the same discretionary orders 
to the soldiery throughout the country, where no such imminent 
necessity called for it, were the points upon which the conduct 
of the Government was strongly, and not unjustly, censured. 

Indeed, the manifest design of the Ministry, at this crisis, to 
avail themselves of the impression produced by the riots, as a 
means of extending the frontier of their power, and fortifying 
the doctrines by which they defended it, spread an alarm am.ong 
the friends of constitutional principles, which the language of 



RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 231 

some of the advocates of the Court was by no means calculated 
to allay. Among others, a Noble Earl, — one of those awkward 
worshippers of power, who bring ridicule alike upon their idol 
and themselves, — had the foolish effrontery, in the House of 
Lords, to eulogize the moderation which His Majesty had dis- 
played, in not following the recent example of the king of Swe- 
den, and employing the sword, with which the hour of difficulty 
had armed him, for the subversion of the Constitution and the 
establishment of despotic power. Though this was the mere 
ebullition of an absurd individual, yet the bubble on the surface 
often proves the strength of the spirit underneath, and the pub- 
lic were justified by a combination of circumstances, in attribu- 
ting designs of the most arbitrary nature to such a Court and 
such an Administration. Meetings were accordingly held in 
some of the principal counties, and resolutions passed, condemn- 
ing the late unconstitutional employment of the military. Mr. 
Fox had adverted to it strongly at the opening of the Session, 
and it is a proof of the estimation in which Mr. Sheridan already 
stood with his party, that he was the person selected to bring for 
ward a motion, upon a subject in which the feelings of the public 
were so much interested. In the course of his speech he said : — 

'' If this doctrine was to be laid down, that the Crown could give orders 
to the military to interfere, when, where, and for what length of time it 
pleases, then we might bid farewell to freedom. If this was the law, we 
should then be reduced to a military government of the very worst ?p:.'cles, 
in which we should have all the evils of a despotic state, v\4thout the disci- 
pline or the security. But we were given to understand, that we had the 
best protection against this evil, in the virtue, the moderation, and the con- 
stitutional principles of the sovereign. No man upon earth thought with 
more reverence than himself of the virtues and moderation of the sov- 
ereign ; but this was a species of liberty which he trusted would never 
disgrace an English soil. The liberty that rested on the virtuous inclina- 
tions of any one man, was but suspended despotism ; the sword was not in- 
deed upon their necks, but It hung by the small and brittle thread of hu- 
man will." 

The following passage of this speech affords an example of 
that sort of antithesis of epithet, which, as has been already re- 
marked, was one of the most favorite contrivances of his style :— 



232 MEMOIKS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

'^ Was not the conduct of that man or men criminal, who had permitted 
those Justices to continue in the commission ? Men of tried inability and 
convicted deficiency I Had no attempt been made to establish some more 
effectual system of police, in order that we might still depend upon the 
remedy of the bayonet, and that the military power might be called in to 
the aid of contrived weakness and deliberate inattention P^ 

One of the few instances in which he ever differ ed with his 
friend, Mr. Fox, occurred durmg this session, upon the subject 
of a Bill which the latter introduced for the Repeal of the Mar- 
riage Act, and which he prefaced by a speech as characteristic of 
the ardor, the simplicity, the benevolence and fearlessness of his 
disposition, as any ever pronounced by him in public. Some 
parts, indeed, of this remarkable speech are in a strain of feeling 
so youthful and romantic, that they seem more fit to be addressed 
to one of those Parliaments of Love, which were held during the 
times of Chivalry, than to a grave assembly employed about the 
sober realities of life, and legislating with a view to the infirmi- 
ties of human nature. 

The hostility of Mr. Fox to the Marriage Act was hereditary, 
as it had been opposed with equal vehemence by his father, on 
its first introduction in 1753, when a debate not less memorable 
took place, and when Sir Dudley Ryder, tbe Attorney-general 
of the day, did not hesitate to advance, as one of his arguments 
in favor of the Bill, that it would tend to keep the aristocracy of 
the country pure, and prevent their mixture by intermarriage 
with the mass of the people. However this anxiety for the 
" streams select" of noble blood, or views, equally questionable, 
for the accumulation of property in great families, may have in- 
fluenced many of those with whom the Bill originated, — however 
cruel, too, and mischievous, some of its enactments may be 
deemed, yet the general effect which the measure was intended 
to produce, of diminishing as much as possible the number of 
imprudent marriages, by allowing the pilotage of parental au- 
thority to continue till the first quicksands of youth are passed, 
is, by the majority of the civilized world, acknowledged to be 
desirable and beneficial. Mr, Fox, however, thought otherwise, 



RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 233 

and though — " bowing," as he said, " to the prejudices of man- 
kind," — he consented to fix the age at which young people should 
be marriageable without the consent of parents, at sixteen years 
for the woman and eighteen for the man, his own opinion was 
decidedly for removing all restriction whatever, and for leaving 
the " heart of youth" which, in these cases, was " wiser than the 
head of age," without limit or control, to the choice which its 
own desires dictated. 

He was opposed in his arguments, not only by Mr. Sheridan, 
but by Mr. Burke, whose speech on this occasion was found 
among his manuscripts after his death, and is enriched, though 
short, by some of those golden sentences, which he " scattered 
from his urn" upon every subject that came before him.* Mr. 
Sheridan, for whose opinions upon this subject the well-known 
history of his own marriage must have secured no ordinary de- 
gree of attention, remarked that — 

'^ His honorable friend, who brought in the bill, appeared not to be aware 
that, if he carried the clause enabling girls to marry at sixteen, he would 
do an injury to that liberty of which he had always shown himself the 
friend, and promote domestic tyranny, which he could consider only as 
little less intolerable than public tyranny. If girls were allowc^d to marry 
at sixteen, they would, he conceived, be abridged of that happy Ireedom of 
intercourse, which modern custom had introduced between the youth of 
both sexes ; and which was, in his opinion, the best nursery of happy mar- 
riages. Guardians would, in that case, look on their wards Vvith a jealous 
eye, from a fear that footmoQ and those about them might take advantage 
of their tender years and immature judgment, and persuade them into mar- 
riage, as soon as they attained the age of sixteen." 

It seems somewhat extraordinary that, during the very busy 
interval which passed between Mr. Sheridan's first appearance in 
Parliament and his appointment under Lord Rockingham's ad- 

* In alluding to Mr. Fox's too favorable estimate of the capability of very young per- 
sons to choose for themselves, he pays the following tribute to his powers :— "He is led 
into it by a natural and to him inevitable and real mistake, that the ordinary race of man- 
kind advance as fast towards maturity of judgment and understanding as he has done." 
His concluding words are : — " Have mercy on the youth of both sexes ; protect them 
from thek ignorance and inexperience ; protect one part of life by the wisdom of ano- 
ther ; protect them by the wisdom of laws and the care of nature.'^ 



234 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

ministration in 1782, he should so rarely have taken a part in 
the debates that occurred — interesting as they were, not only 
from the importance of the topics discussed, but from the more 
than usual animation now infused into the warfare of parties, by 
the last desperate struggles of the Ministry and the anticipated 
triumph of the Opposition. Among the subjects, upon which he 
appears to have been rather unaccountably silent, was the re- 
newal of Mr. Burke's Bill for the Regulation of the Civil List, 
— an occasion memorable as having brought forth the maiden 
speech of Mr. Pitt, and witnessed the first accents of that elo- 
quence which was destined, ere long, to sound, like the shell of 
Misenus, through Europe, and call kings and nations to battle by 
its note. The debate upon the legality of petitions from dele- 
gated bodies, in which Mr. Dunning sustained his high and rare 
character of a patriot lawyer ; — the bold proposal of Mr. Thomas 
Pitt, that the Commons should withhold the supplies, till pledges 
of amendment in the administration of public affairs should be 
given ; — the Bill for the exclusion of Excise Officers and Con- 
tractors from Parliament, which it was reserved for a Whig Ad- 
ministration to pass ; — these and other great constitutional ques- 
tions, through which Mr. Burke and Mr. Fox fought, side by 
side, lavishing at every step the inexhaustible ammunition of their 
intellect, seem to have passed away without once calling into ac- 
tion the powers of their new and brilliant auxiliary, Sheridan. 

The affairs of Ireland, too, had assumed at this period, under 
the auspices of Mr. Grattan and the example of America, a cha- 
racter of grandeur, as passing as it was bright, — but which will 
long be remembered with melancholy pride by her sons, and as 
long recall the memory of that admirable man, to whose patri- 
otism she owed her brief day of freedom, and upon whose name 
that momentary sunshine of her sad history rests. An oppor- 
tunity of adverting to the events, which had lately taken place 
in Ireland, was afforded by Mr. Fox in a motion for the re-com- 
mitment of the Mutiny Bill ; and on this subject, perhaps, the 
silence of Mr. Sheridan may be accounted for, from his reluc- 
tance to share the unpopularity attached by his countrymen to 



RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 235 

those high notions of the supremacy of England, which, on the 
great question of the independence of the Irish Parliament, both 
Mr. Fox and Mr. Burke were known to entertain."^ 

Even on the subject of the American war, which was now the 
important point that called forth all the resources of attack and 
defence on both sides, the co-operation of Mr. Sheridan appears 
to have been but rare and casual. The only occasions, indeed, 
connected with this topic upon which I can trace him as having 
spoken at any length, were the charges brought forward by Mr. 
Fox against the Admiralty for their mismanagement of the na- 
val affairs of 1781, and the Resolution of censure on His Ma- 
jesty's Ministers moved by Lord John Cavendish. His remarks 
in the latter debate upon the two different sets of opinions, by 
which (as by the double soul, imagined in Xenophon) the speak- 
ing and the voting of Mr. Rigby were actuated, are very 
happy :— 

" The Right Hon. Gentleman, however, had acted in this day's debate with 
perfect consistency. He had assured the House that he thought the Noble 
Lord ought to resign his office ; and yet he would give his vote for his re- 
maining in it. In the same manner he had long declared, that he thought 
the American war ought to be abandoned ; yet had uniformly given his 
vote for its continuance. He did not mean, however, to insinuate any mo- 
tives for such conduct ; — he believed the Right Hon. Gentleman to have 
been sincere ; he believed that, as a member of Parliament, as a Privy 
Councillor, as a private gentleman, he had always detested the American 
war as much as any man ; but that he had never been able to persuade the 
Paymaster that it was a bad war ; and unfortunately, in whatever charac- 
ter he spoke, it was the Paymaster who always voted in that House. ^^ 

The infrequency of Mr. Sheridan's exertions upon the Ameri- 

* As the few beautiful sentences spoken by Burke on this occasion, in support of his 
friend's motion, have been somewhat strangely omitted in the professed collection of all 
his Speeches, I shall give them here as they are reported in the Parliamentary History : — 
" Mr. Burke said, so many and such great revolutions had happened of late, that he was 
not much surprised to hear the Right Hon. Gentlem.an (Mr. Jenkinson) treat the loss of the 
supremacy of this country over Ireland as a matter of very little consequence. Thus, 
one star, and that: the brightest ornament of our orrery, having been suffered to be lost, 
those who were accustomed to inspect and watch our political heaven ought not to won* 
der that it should be followed by the loss of another. — 

So star would follow star, and light light, 
TiU a.l was darkness and eternal night** 



236 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

can question combines with other circunistances to throw some 
doubts upon an anecdote, which has been, however, communica- 
ted to me as coming from an authority worthy in every respect 
of the most implicit belief He is said to have received, to- 
wards the close of this war, a letter from one of the leading per- 
sons of the American Government, expressing high admiration of 
his talents and political principles, and informing him that the 
sum of twenty thousand pounds had been deposited for him in 
the hands of a certain banker, as a m^ark of the value which 
the American people attached to his services in the cause of 
liberty. To this Mr. S. returned an answer (which, as well as 
the letter, was seen, it is said, by the person ^^dth whom the anec- 
dote originated) full of the most respectful gratitude for the 
opinion entertained of his services, but begghig leave to decline 
a gift under such circumstances. That this would have been the 
nature of his answer, had any such proposal occurred, the gene- 
rally high tone of his political conduct forbids us to feel any 
doubt, — but, with respect to the credibility of the transaction 
altogether, it is far less easy to believe that the Americans had 
so much money to give, than that Mr. Sheridan should have been 
sufficiently high-minded to refuse it. 

Not only were the occasions very few and select, on which he 
offered himself to the attention of the House at this period, but, 
whenever he did speak, it was concisely and unpretendingly, 
with the manner of a person who came to learn a new road to 
fame, — not of one who laid claim to notice upon the credit of 
the glory he brought with him. Mr. Fox used to say that he 
considered his conduct in this respect as a most striking proof 
of his sagacity and good taste ; — such rare and unassuming dis- 
plays of his talents being the only effectual mode he could have 
adopted, to win on the attention 'of his audience, and gradually 
establish himself in their flivo.T*. He had, indeed, many difficul- 
ties and disadvantages to encounter, of which his own previous 
reputation was not the least. Not only did he risk a perilous 
comparison between his powers as a speaker and his fame as a 
writer, but he had also to contend with that feeling of monopoly, 



KiGHT HON. BICHARD BEINSLEY SHERIDAN. 237 

which pervades the more worldly classes of talent, and which 
would lead politicians to regard as an intruder upon their craft, 
a man of genius thus aspiring to a station among them, without 
the usual qualifications of either birth or apprenticeship to entitle 
him to it.* In an assembly, too, whose deference for rank and 
property is such as to render it lucky that these instruments of 
influence are so often united with honesty and talent, the son of 
an actor and proprietor of a theatre had, it must be owned, most 
fearful odds against him, in entering into competition with the 
sons of Lord Holland and Lord Chatham. 

With the same discretion that led him to obtrude himself b\it 
seldom on the House, he never spoke at this period but after 
careful and even verbal preparation. Like most of our great 
orators at the commencement of their careers, he was in the ha- 
bit of writing out his speeches before he delivered them ; and, 
though subsequently he scribbled these preparatory sketches 
upon detached sheets, I find that he began by using for this pur 
pose the same sort of copy books, which he had employed in the 
first rough draughts of his plays. 

However ill the affairs of the country were managed by Lord 
North, in the management of Parliament few. ministers have 
been more smoothly dexterous ; and through the whole course of 
those infatuated measures, which are now delivered over, without 
appeal, to the condemnation of History, he was cheered along 
by as full and triumphant majorities, as ever followed in the 
wake of ministerial power. At length, however, the spirit of 
the people, that last and only resource against the venality of 
parliaments and the obstinacy of kings, was roused from its long 
and dangerous sleep by the unparalleled exertions of the Oppo- 

* There is an anecdote strong-ly illustrative of this observation, quoted by Lord John 
Russell in his able and lively work -'On the Affairs of Europe from the Peace of Utrecht." 
— Mr. Steele (in alluding to Sir Thomas Hanmer's opposition to the Commercial Treaty in 
1714) said, "I rise to do him honor-' — on which many members who had before tried to 
interrupt him, called out, 'Tatler, Tatler ;' and as he went down the House, several said, 
*It is not so easy a thing to speak in the House :' 'He fancies because he can scribble, 
&c. &c., — Slight circumstances, indeed, (adds Lord John.) but which show at once the in- 
disposition of the House to the Whig party, and the natural envy of mankind, long ago 
remarked by Cicero, towards all who attempt to gain more than one kind of pre-eminence. " 



238 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

sition leaders, and spoke oat with a voice, always aw^fully intel- 
ligible, against the men and the measures that had brought Eng- 
land to the brink of ruin. The effect of this popular feeling 
soon showed itself in the upper regions. The country-gentlemen, 
those birds of political omen, whose migrations are so porten- 
tous of a change of weather, began to flock in numbers to the 
brightenmg quarter of Opposition ; aiid at last. Lord North, after 
one or two signal defeats (in spite even of which the Court for 
some time clung to him, as the only hope of its baffled, but per- 
severing revenge), resigned the seals of office in the month of 
March, 1782, and an entirely new administration was formed 
under the promising auspices of the Marquis of Rockingham. 

Mr. Sheridan, as might be expected, shared in the triumph of 
his party, by being appointed one of the Under Secretaries of 
State ; and, no doubt, looked forward to a long and improving 
tenure of that footing in office w^hich his talents had thus earl^; 
procured for him. But, however prosperous on the surface the 
complexion of the ministry might be, its intestine state was such 
as did not promise a very long existence. Whiggism is a sort 
of political Protestantism, and pays a similar tax for the freedom 
of its creed, in the multiplicity of opinions w^hich that very free 
dom engenders — while true Toryism, like Popery, holding her 
children together by the one common doctrine of the infallibility 
of the Throne, takes care to repress any schism inconvenient to 
their general interest, and keeps them, at least for all intents and 
purposes of place-holding, unanimous. 

Between the two branches of Opposition that composed the 
present administration there were some very important, if not 
essential, differences of opinion. Lord Shelburne, the pupil and 
friend of Lord Chatham, held the same high but unwise opinions, 
wdth respect to the recognition of American independence, which 
" the swan-like end " of that great man has consecrated in our 
imagination, however much our reason may condemn them. 
" Whenever," said Lord Shelburne, " the Parliament of Great 
Britain shall acknowledge the independence of America, from 
that moment the sun of England is set for ever." With regard 



RIGHT IIOX, RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 239 

to the affairs of India, too, and the punishment of those who were 
accused of mismanaging them, the views of the noble Lord 
wholly differed from those of Mr. Fox and his followers — as 
appeared from the decided part in favor of Mr. Hastings, w^hich 
he took in the subsequent measure of the Impeachment. In 
addition to these fertile seeds of disunion, the retention in the 
cabinet of a person like Lord Thurlow, whose views of the Con- 
stitution were all through the wrong end of the telescope, and 
who did not even affect to conceal his hostility to the principles 
of his colleagues, seemed such a provision, at starting, for the 
embarrassment of the Ministry, as gave but very little hope of 
its union or stability. 

The only Speech, of which any record remains as having been 
delivered by Mr. Sheridan during his short official career, vfas 
upon a motion made by Mr. Eden, the late Secretary for Ire- 
land, " to repeal so much of the act of George I. as asserted a 
right in the Kino; and Parliament of Great Britain to make laws 
to bind the Kingdom of Ireland." Tliis motion w^as intended to 
perplex the new ministers, who, it was evident from the speech 
of Mr. Fox on the subject, had not yet made up their minds to 
that surrender of the Legislative Supremacy of Great Britain, 
which Ireland now, with arms in her hands, demanded."^ Mr. 
Sheridan concurred with the Honorable Secretary in deprecating 
such a hasty and insidious agitation of the question, but at the 
same time expressed in a much more unhesitating manner, his 
opinion of that Law of Subjection from w^hich Ireland now rose 
to release herself: 

" If lie declared Mmself (he said) so decided an enemy to tlie principle 
of the Declaratory Law in question, which he had always regarded as a 
tyrannous usurpation in this country, he yet could not but reprobate the 
motives which influenced the present mover for its repeal — but, if the house 
divided on it, he should vote with him.- ' 

* Mr. Fox, in his speech upon the Commercial Propositions of 1785, acknowledged the 
relactance tliat was fell at this period, in surrendering the power of external or commer- 
cial legislation over Ireland : — " a power," he said, " which, in their struggles for inde- 
pendence, the Irish had imprudently insisted on having abolished, and which he had him- 
self given up in compliance with the strong prejudices of that nation, though with a re- 
luctance that nolliing but irresistible necessity could overcome." 



240 MEMOIKS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

The general sense of the House being against the motion, it 
was withdrawn. But the spirit of the Irish nation had advanced 
too far on its march to be called back even by the most friendly 
voice. All that now remained for the ministers was to yield, 
with a confiding frankness, what the rash measures of their pre- 
decessors and the weakness of England had put it out of their 
power with safety to refuse. This policy, so congenial to the 
disposition of Mr. Fox, was adopted. His momentary hesitation 
was succeeded by such a prompt and generous acquiescence in 
the full demands of the Irish Parliament, as gave all the grace of 
a favor to what necessity would, at all events, have extorted — 
and, in the spirited assertion of the rights oT freemen on one side, 
and the cordial and entke recognition of them on the other, the 
names of Grattan and Fox, in that memorable moment, reflected 
a lustre on each other which associates them in its glory for 
ever. * 

Another occasion upon which Mr. Sheridan spoke while in 
office, — though no report of his Speech has been preserved — was 
a motion for a Committee to examine into the State of the Re- 
pi esentation, brought forward by the youthful reformer, Mr. 
William Pitt, whose zeal in the cause of freedom was at that 
time, perhaps, sincere, and who little dreamed of the w^ar he was 
destined to wage with it afterwards. Mr. Fox and Mr. Sheridan 
spoke strongly in favor of the motion, while, in compliance with 
the request of the former, Mr. Burke absented himself from the 
discussion — giving the cause of Reform, for once, a respite from 
the thunders of his eloquence, like the sleep of Jove, in Homer, 
w^hich leaves the Greeks for the moment masters of the field. 

Notwithstanding all this, however, the question w^as lost by a 
majority of 161 to 141. 

Immediately on his accession to office, Mr. Sheridan received 
the following letter from his brother Charles Francis, who had 

* "And, while the moment lasts of Jove's repose, 

Make victory theirs." Cowpkr. 



RIGHT HON". KICHARD BRINSLEY SHEIUIAVX. 241 

been called to the Irish bar in 1778 or 9, but was at this tirae 
practising as a Special Pleader : — 

" Dear Dick, Dublin, March 27, 1782. 

" I am much obliged to you for your early intelligence con- 
cerning the fate of the Ministry, and give you joy on the occasion, 
notwithstanding your sorrow for the departure of the good 
Opposition. I understand very well what you mean by this 
sorrow — but as you may be now in a situation in which you may 
obtain some substantial advantage for yourself, for God's sake 
improve the opportunity to the utmost, and don't let dreams of 
empty fame (of which you have had enough in conscience) carry 
you away from your solid interests. 

" I return you many thanks for Fox's letter. I mean for your 
intention to make him write one — for as your good intentions 
always satisfy your conscience, and that you seem to think the 
carrying them into execution to be a mere trifling ceremony, as 
well omitted as not, your friends must always take the will for 
the deed, I will forgive you, however, on condition that you will 
for once in your life consider that though the will alone may 
perfectly satisfy yourself, your friends would be a little more, 
gratified if they were sometimes to see it accompanied by the 
deed — and let me be the first upon whom you try the experiment. 
If the people here are not to share the fate of their patrons, but 
are suffered to continue in the government of this country, I be- 
lieve you will have it in your power, as I am certain it will be in 
your inclination, to fortify my claims upon them by recommend- 
ations from your side of the water, in such a manner as to insure 
to me what I have a right to expect from them, but of which I 
can have no certainty without that assistance. T wish the present 
people may continue here, because I certainly have claims upon 

them, and considering the footing that Lord C and Charles 

Fox are on, a recommendation from the latter would now have 
every weight, — it would be drawing a bill upon Government here, 
payable at sight, which they dare not protest. So, dear Dick, 1 
shall rely upon you that will realli/ be done : and, to confess the 

VOL. I. 



242 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

truth, unless it be done, and that speedily, I shall be complete !}■ 
ruined, for this damned annuitj, payable to my uncle, plays the 
devil with me. If there is any intention of recallhig the people 
here, I beg you will let me know it as soon as possible, that 1 
may take my measures accordingly, — and I think I inay rely 

upon you also that whoever comes over here as Lord L 1, 

i shall not be forgot among the number of those who shall be 
recommended to them. 

" As to our politics here, I send you a newspaper, — read the 
resolutions of the volunteers, and you will be enabled to form 
some idea of the spirit which at present pervades this country. 
A declaration of the independency of our Parliament upon yours 
will certainly pass our House of Commons immediately after 
the recess ; government here dare not, cannot oppose it ; you 
will see the volunteers have pledged their lives and fortunes in 
support of the measure. The grand juries of every county have 
followed their example, and some of the staunchest friends of 
government have been, much against their inclinations, compelled 
to sign the most spirited Resolutions. 

" A call of the House is ordered for the first Tuesday after 
the recess, and circular letters from the Speaker worded in thia 
remarkable manner, " that the members do attend on that day 
as they tender the rights of Ireland^ In short, nothing will 
satisfy the people but the most; unequivocal assertion of the total 
independence of the Irish legislat'Ji.-e. This flame has been raised 
within this six weeks, and is entirely owing either to the insidious 
design or unpardonable inattention of the late administration, in 
including, or suffering to be included, the name of Ireland in nc 
less than five British statutes passed lasc sessions. People here 
were ignorant of this till Grattan produced the five Acts to the 
House of Commons, one of which Eden had been so imprudent 
as to publish in the Dublin gazette. Previous to this the gene- 
ral sense of the country was, that the mere question of right 
should be suffered to sleep, provided the exercise of the power 
claimed under it should never again be resorted to in a single 
instance. 



BIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 248 

" The sooner you repeal the 6th of G. 1. the better ; for, be- 
lieve me, nothing short of that can now preserve union and cor- 
diality between the two countries. 

'' I hope my father and you are very good friends by this. I 
shall not be able to send you the remaining 50/. till October, as 
I have been disappointed as to the time of payment of the 
money I expected to receive this month. Let me entreat you 
to write to me shortly a few words. I beg my love to Mrs. S. 
and Tom. 

" I am, dear Dick, 

" Your very affectionate brother, 

" C. F. Sheridan." 

The expectations of the writer of this letter were not disap* 
pointed. The influence of Mr. Sheridan, added to his own claims, 
procured for him the office of Secretary of War in Ireland, — a 
situation, which the greater pliancy of his political principles 
contrived to render a more permanent benefit to him than any 
that his Whig brother was ever able to secure for himself 

The death of the Marquis of Rockingham broke up this short- 
lived Ministry, which, during the four months of its existence, 
did more perhaps for the principles of the Constitution, than 
any one administration that England had seen since the Revolu- 
tion. They were betrayed, it is true, into a few awkward over- 
flowings of loyalty, which the rare access of Whigs to the throne 
may at once account for and excuse : — and Burke, in particular, 
has lefl us a specimen of his taste for extremes, in that burst of 
optimism mth which he described the King's message, as " the 
best of messages to the best of people from the best of kings." 
But these first effects of the atmosphere of a court, upon heads 
unaccustomed to it, are natural and harmless — while the mea- 
sures that passed during that brief interval, directed against the 
sources of Parliamentary corruption, and confirmatory of the 
best principles of the Constitution, must ever be remembered to 
the honor of the party from which they emanated. The exclu- 
sion of contractors from the House of Commons — the disquali- 



244 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE. OF THE p 

fication of revenue-officers from voting at elections — the disfran- 
chisement of corrupt voters at Cricklade, by which a second pre- 
cedent* was furnished towards that plan of gradual Reform, 
which hasj in our own time, been so forcibly recommended by 
Lord John Russell — the diminution of the patronage of the 
Crown, by Mr. Burke's celebrated Billf — the return to the old 
constitutional practicej of making the revenues of the Crown pay 
off their own incumbrances, which salutary principle w^as again 
lost in the hands of Mr. Pitt — the atonement at last made to 
the violated rights of electors, by the rescinding of the Resolu- 
tions relative to Wilkes — the frank and cordial understanding 
entered into with Ireland, which identifies the memory of Mr. 
Fox and this ministry with the only oasis in the whole desert of 
Irish history — so many and such important recognitions of the 
best principles of Whiggism, followed up, as they were, by the 
Resolutions of Lord John Cavendish at the close of the Session, 
pledging the ministers to a perseverance in the same task of 
purification and retrenchment, give an aspect to this short period 
of the annals of the late reign, to which the eye turns for relief 
from the arbitrary complexion of the rest ; and furnish us with, 
at least, one consoling instance, where the principles professed 
by statesmen, when in opposition, were retained and sincerely 
acted upon by them in power. 

On the death of the Marquis of Rockingham, Lord Shelburne, 
without, as it appears, consulting any of the persons attached to 
that nobleman, accepted the office of first Lord of the Treasury ; 
in consequence of which Mr. Fox, and the greater number of 
his friends — among whom were Mr. Burke and Mr. Sheridan — 
sent in their resignations ; while General Conway, the Duke of 
Richmond, and one or two other old allies of the party, remained 
in office. 

* The first was that of the borough of Shoreham in 1771. 

t This Bill, though its circle of retrenchment was, as might be expected, considerably 
narrowed, when the Treasury Bench became the centre from which he described it, was 
yet eminently useful, as an acknowledgment from ministerial authority of the necessity 
of such occasional curtailments of the Royal influence. 

X First departed from in 1769. See Burke's powerful exposure of the mischiefs of this 
jinovatioQ, in his " Thoughts on the Causes of the present Discontents." 



RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 245 

To a disposition so social as that of Mr. Fox, the frequent in- 
terruption and even loss of friendships, which he had to sustain 
in the course of his political career, must have been a sad alloj 
to its pleasure and its pride. The fable of the sheep that leaves 
its fleece on the bramble bush is but too apt an illustration of 
the fate of him, who thus sees himself stripped of the comforts 
of friendship by the tenacious and thorny hold of politics. On 
the present occasion, however, the desertion of his standard by 
a few who had followed him cordially in his ascent to power, but 
did not show the same alacrity in accompanying his voluntary 
fall, was amply made up to him by the ready devotion, with 
which the rest of the party shared his fortunes. The disinterest- 
edness of Sheridan was the more meritorious, if, as there is 
every reason to believe, he considered the step of resignation at 
such a moment to be, at least, hasty, if not wholly wrong. In 
this light it was, indeed, viewed by many judicious persons at the 
time, and the assurances given by the Duke of Richmond and 
General Conway, of the continued adherence of the cabinet to 
the same principles and measures, to which they were pledged 
at the first formation of the ministry, would seem to confirm the 
justice of the opinion. So much temper, however, had, during 
the few months o^ their union, been fermenting between the 
two great masses of which the administration was composed, 
that it w^ould have been difficult, if not impossible, for the Rock- 
ingham party to rally, with any cordiality, round Lord Shel- 
burne, as a leader — however they might still have been content- 
ed to co-operate with him, had he remained in the humble sta- 
tion which he himself had originally selected. Tliat noble Lord, 
too, who felt that the sacrifice which he had considerately made, 
in giving up the supremacy of station to Lord Rockuigham, had, 
so far from being duly appreciated by his colleagues, been repaid 
only with increased alienation and distrust, could hardly be ex- 
pected to make a second surrender of his advantages, in favor of 
persons who had, he thought, so ungraciously requited him for 
the first. In the mean time the Court, to which the Rockingham 
party was odious, had, with its usual policy, hollowed the ground 



246 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

beneath them, so as to render their footing neither agreeable nor 
safe. Tlie favorite object in that quarter being to compose a 
ministry of those convenient ingredients, called " King's friends," 
Lord Shelburne was but made use of as a temporary instrument, 
to clear away, in the first plane, the chief obstacles to such an 
arrangement, and then, in his turn, be sacrificed himself, as soon 
as a more subservient system could be organized. It was, in- 
deed, only upon a strong representation from his Lordship of 
the impossibility of carrying on his government against such an 
Opposition, without the infusion of fresh and popular talent, 
that the royal consent was obtained to the appointment of Mr. 
Pitt — the memory of whose uncompromising father, as well as 
the first achievements on his own youthful shield, rendered him 
no very promising accession to such a scheme of government, 
as was evidently then contemplated by the Court. 

In this state of affairs, the resignation of Mr. Yox and his 
friends was but a prompt and spirited anticipation of what must 
inevitably have taken place, under circumstances much less re- 
dounding to the credit of their independence and disinterested- 
ness. There is little doubt, indeed, that with the great majority 
of the nation, Mr. Fox by this step considerably added to his 
popularity — and, if we were desired to point out the meridian 
moment of bis fame, we should fix it perhaps at this splendid 
epoch, before the ill-fated Coalition had damped the confidence 
of his friends, or the ascendancy of his great rival had multiplied 
the number of his enemies. 

There is an anecdote of Mr. Burke, connected with this period, 
the credibility of wliich must be left to the reader's own judgment. 
It is said that, immediately upon the retirement of Mr. Fox. 
while Lord John Cavendish (whose resignation was for a short 
time delayed by the despatch of some official business) was still 
a minister, Mr. Burke, with a retrospect to the sweets of office 
which showed that he had not wholly left hope behind, endeav 
ored to open a negotiation through the medium of Lord John, 
for the purpose of procuring, by some arrangement, either for 
llimself or hiu son, a Teliershlp then in the possession of a rel%- 



RIGHT HOK. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERILA.N. 247 

tive of Lord Orford. It is but fair to add that this curious an- 
ecdote rests chiefly upon the authority of the latter nobleman.^' 
The degree of faith it receives will, therefore, depend upon the 
balance that may be struck in our comparative estimate between 
the dismterestedness of Burke and the veracity of Lord Orford. 

At the comxmencement of the following session that extraor- 
dinary Coalition was declared, which had 'the ill-luck attributed 
to the conjunction of certain planets, and has shed an unfavorable 
influence over the political wo]"ld ever since. Little is, I believe, 
known of the private negotiations that led to this ill-assorted 
union of parties ; but, from whichever side the first advances 
may have come, the aflair seems to have been dispatched with 
the rapidity of a Siamese courtship ; and while to Mr. Eden (af- 
terwards Lord jiuckland) is attributed the credit of having gained 
Lord North's consent to the union, Mr. Burke is generally sup- 
posed to have been the person, who sung the " Hymen, oli Hy- 
mense" in the ears of Mr. Fox. 

With that sagacity, which in general directed his political 
views, Mr. Sheridan foresaw all the consequences of such a de> 
fiance of public opinion, and exerted, it is said, the whole power 
of his persuasion and reasoning, to turn aside his sanguine and 
uncalculating friend from a measure so likely to embarrass his 
future career. Unfortunately, however, the advice was not 
taken, — and a person, who witnessed the close of a conversation, 
in which Sheridan had been making a last effort to convince Mr. 
Fox of the imprudence of the step he was about to take, heard 
the latter, at parting, express his final resolution in the following 
decisive words: — "It is as fixed as the Hanover succession.'* 

To the general principle of Coalitions, and the expediency and 
even duty of forming them, in conjunctures that require and jus- 
tify such a sacrifice of the distinctions of party, no objection, it 
appears to me, can rationally be made by those who are satisfied 
with the manner in which tlie Constitution has worked, since the 
new modification of its machinery introduced at the Revolution. 
The Revolution itself was, indeed, brought about by a Coalition, 

* Unpublished Paperi. 



2-18 3[e:moirs of the life of the 

in which Tories, surrenderirig their doctrines of submission, ar- 
rayed themselves by the side of Whigs, in defence of their com- 
mon liberties. Another Coalition, less important in its object 
and effects, but still attended with results m.ost glorious to the 
country, was that which took place in the year 1757, when, by a 
union of parties from whose dissension much mischief had flowed, 
the interests of both king and people were reconciled, and the 
good genius of England triumphed at home and abroad. 

On occasions like these, when the public liberty or safety is in 
peril, it is the duty of every honest statesman to say, with the 
Roman, " Non me impedient 2yriva^ce offensiones, quo minus pro 
rerpiiblicce salute etiam cum inimicissimo consentmm.'^ Such 
cases, however, but rarely occur ; and they have been in this re- 
spect, among others, distinguished from the ordinary occasions, 
on whicli the ambition or selfishness of politicians resorts to such 
unions, that the voice of the people has called aloud for them in 
the name of the public weal ; and that the cause round which 
they have rallied has been sufficiently general, to merge all j^arty 
titles in the one undistinguishing name of Englishman. By nei- 
th.T of these tests can the junction between Lord North and Mr. 
Fox be justified. Tlie people at large, so far from calling for 
this ill-omened alliance, would on the contrary — to use the lan- 
guage of Mr. Pitt — have "forbid the banns ;" and though it is 
unfair to suppose that the interests of the public did not 
enter into the calculations of the united leaders, yet, if the 
real watchword of tlieir union were to be demanded of 
them in •' the Palace of Truth," there can be little doubt that 
the answer of each would be, rllstinctly and unhesitatingly, "Am- 
bition.*' 

One of the most specious allegations in defence of the measure 
is, that tha extraordinary favor whirh Lord Shelburne enjoyed at 
coiu't, and the arbitrary tendencies known to prevail in that 
quarter, portended ju^t then such an overflow of Royal influence, 
as it was necessary to counteract by this double embankment of 
party. In the first place, however, it is by no means so cer- 
tain that the noble minister at this period did actually enjo}' 



RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 249 

such favor. On the contrary, there is every reason to be- 
lieve that his possession of the Royal confidence did not long 
survive that important service, to which he was made instru- 
mental, of clearing the cabinet of the Whigs ; and that, like the 
bees of Virgi], he had left the soul of his own power in the 
wound which he had been the means of inflicting upon that of 
others. In the second place, whatever might have been the de- 
signs of the Court, — and of its encroaching spirit no doubt can be 
entertained, — Lord Shelburne had assuredly given no grounds 
for apprehending, that he would ever, like one of the chiefs of 
this combination against him, be brought to lend himself precipi- 
tately or mischievously to its views. Though differing from Mr. 
Fox on some important points of policy, and following the ex- 
ample of his friend, Lord Chatham, in keeping himself indepen- 
dent of Whig confederacies, he was not the less attached to the 
true principles of that party, and, throughout his whole political 
career, invariably maintained them. This argument, therefore, 
— the only plausible one in defence of the Coalition, — fails in the 
two chief assumptions on which it is founded. 

It has been truly said of Coalitions, considered abstractedly, 
that such a union of parties, when the public good requires it, is to 
be justified on the same grounds on which party itself is vindicated. 
But the more we feel inclined to acknowledge the utility of 
party, the more we must dread and deprecate any unnecessary 
compromise, by which a suspicion of unsoundness may be brought 
upon the agency of so useful a principle — the more we should 
discourage, as a matter of policy, any facility in surrendering 
those badges of opinion, on which the eyes of followers are fond- 
ly fixed, and by v/hich their confidence and spirit are chiefly kept 
alive — the more, too, we must lament that a great popular lead- 
er, like Mr. Fox, should ever have lightly concurred in such a 
confusion of the boundaries of opinion, and, like that mighty 
river, the Mississippi, whose waters lose their own color in mix- 
ing with those of the Missouri, have sacrificed the distinctive hue 
of his own political creed, to this confluence of interests with a 
party so totally opposed to it. 



VOL. T. 1 



1^' 



250 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

" Court and country," says Hume,* " which are the genume 
offspring of the British government, are a kind of mixed parties, 
and are influenced both by principle and by interest. The heads 
of the factions are commonly most governed by the latter mo- 
live ; the inferior members of them by the former." Whether 
this be altogether true or not, it will, at least, without much 
difficulty be conceded, that the lower we descend in the atmos- 
phere of party, the more quick and inflammable we find the feel- 
ing that circulates through it. Accordingly, actions and profes- 
sions, which, in that region of indifference, high life, may be for- 
gotten as soon as done or uttered, become recorded as pledges 
and standards of conduct, among the lower and more earnest 
adherents of the cause ; and many a question, that has ceased to 
furnish even a jest in the drawing-rooms of the great, may be 
still agitated, as of vital importance, among the humbler and 
less initiated disputants of the party. Such being the tenacious 
nature of partisanship, and such the watch kept upon every 
movement of the higher political bodies, we can well imagine 
what a portent it must appear to distant and unprepared observ- 
ers, when the stars to which they trusted for guidance are seen 
to " shoot madly from their spheres," and not only lose them- 
selves for the time in another system, but unsettle all calcula- 
tions with respect to their movements for the future. 

The steps by which, in general, the principles in such transac- 
tions are gradually reconciled to their own inconsistency — the 
negotiations that precede and soften down the most salient diffi- 
culties — the value of the advantages gained, in return for opmions 
sacrificed — the new points of contact brought out by a change 
of circumstances, and the abatement or extinction of former 
differences, by the remission or removal of the causes that pro- 
voked them, — all these conciliatory gradations and balancing 
adjustments, which to those who are in the secret may account 
for, and more or less justify, the alliance of statesmen who dif- 
fer in their general views of politics, are with difficulty, if at all, 

* Essay " on the Parties of Great Britain." 



BIGHT HON. KICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 251 

to be explained to the remote multitude of the party, whose 
habit it is to judge and feel in the gross, and who, as in the case 
of Lord North and Mr. Fox, can see only the broad and but toe 
intelligible fact, that the leaders for wh^m both parties had sac- 
rificed so much — those on one side their interest, and those on 
the other, perhaps, their consciences — had deserted them to 
patch up a suspicious alliance with each other, the only open and 
visible motive to which was the spoil that i{ enabled them to 
partition between them.. 

If, indeed, in that barter of opmions and interests, wnich must 
necessarily take place in Coalitions between the partisans of the 
People and of the Throne, the former had any thing like an 
equality of chance, the mere probability of gaining thus any con- 
cessions in favor of freedom might justify to sanguine minds the 
occasional risk of the compromise. But it is evident that the 
result of such bargains m.ust generally be to the advantage of 
the Crown — the alluvions of power all naturally tend towards 
that shore. Besides, where there are places as well as princi- 
ples to be surrendered on one side, there must in return be so 
much more of principles given up on the other, as will constitute 
an equivalent to this double sacrifice. The centre of gravity 
will be sure to lie in that body, which contains within it the 
source of emoluments and honors, and the other will be forced 
to revolve implicitly round it. 

The only occasion at this period on which Mr. Sheridan seems 
to have alluded to the Coalition, was dm-ing a speech of some 
length on the consideration of the Preliminary Articles of 
Peace. Finding himself obliged to advert to the subject, he 
chose rather to recriminate on the opposite party for the anomaly 
of their ovrn alliances, than to vindicate that which his distin- 
guished friend had just formed, and which, in his heart, as has 
been already stated, he wholly disapproved. The inconsistency 
of the Tory Lord Advocate (Dundas) in connecting himself 
with the patron of Equal Representation, Mr. Pitt, and his sup- 
port of that full recognition of American independence, against 
which, under the banners of Lord North, he had so obstinately 



252 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

combated, afforded to Sheridan's powers of raillery an opportu- 
nity of display, of which, there is no doubt, he with his accus- 
tomed felicity availed himself. The reporter of the speech, 
however, has, as usual, contrived, with an art near akin to that 
of reducing diamonds to charcoal, to turn all the brilliancy of 
his wit into dull and opaqu verbiage. 

It was during this same debate, that he produced that happy 
retort upon Mr. Pitt, which, for good-humored point and season- 
ableness, has seldom, if ever, been equalled. 

*' Mr. Pitt (say the Parliamentary Reports) was pointedly severe on the 
gentlemen who had spoken against the Address, and particularly on Mr. 
Sheridan. ' No man admired more than he did the abilities of that Right 
Honorable Gentleman, the elegant sallies of his thought, the gay effusions 
of his fancy, his dramatic turns and his epigrammatic point ; and if they 
were reserved for the proper stage, they would, no doubt, receive what the 
Honorable Gentleman-s abilities always did receive, the plaudits of the au- 
dience ; and it would be his fortune " sui plausu gcmdere theatri.'" But 
this was not the proper scene for the exhibition of those elegancies.' Mr. 
Sheridan, in rising to explain, said that ' On the particular sort of person- 
ality which the Right Honorable Gentleman had thought proper to make 
use of, he need not make any comment. The propriety, the taste, the gentle- 
manly point of it, must have been obvious to the House. But, said Mr. 
Sheridan, let me assure the Right Honorable gentleman, that I do now, and 
will at any time he chooses to repeat this sort of allusion, meet it with the 
most sincere good-humor. Nay, I will say more— flattered and encoui'aged 
by the Right Honorable Gentleman's panegyric on my talents, if ever I 
again engage in the compositions he alludes to, I maybe tempted to an act 
of presumption — to attempt an improvement on one of Ben Jonson's best 
characters, the character of the Angry Boy in the Alchymist ' '^ 

Mr. Sheridan's connection with the stage, though one of the 
most permanent sources of liis glory, was also a point, upon 
which, at the commencement of his political career, his pride was 
most easily awakeued and alarmed. lie, himself, used to tell of 
the frequent mortifications which he had suHl^red, when at school, 
from taunting allusions to his father's profession — being called 
by some of his school-fellows "the player-boy," &c. Mr. Pitt 
had therefore selected the most sensitive spot for his sarcasm ; 
and the good temper as well as keenness, with which the thrust 



RIGHT HON. RIOHAHD BKlKSLEY SHERIDAN. 253 

was returned, must have been felt even through all that pride of 
youth and talent, in wliich the new Chancellor of the Exchequer 
was then enveloped. There could hardlj, indeed, have been a 
much greater service rendered to a person in the situation of 
Mr. Sheridan, than thus affording him an opportunity of silen- 
cing, once for all, a battery to which this weak point of his pride 
was exposed, and by which he might otherwise have been kept 
in continual alarm. This gentlemanlike retort, combined with 
the recollection of his duel, tended to place him for the future 
in perfect security agamst any indiscreet tamperings with his 
personal history.* 

In the administration, that was now forced upon the court by 
the Coalition, Mr. Sheridan held the office of Secretary of the 
Treasury — the other Secretary being Mr. Richard Burke, the 
brother of the orator. His exertions in the House, while he 
held this office, were chiefly confined to financial subjects, for 
which he. perhaps, at this time, acquired the taste, that tempted 
him afterwards, upon most occasions, to bring his arithmetic into 
the field against Mr. Pitt. His defence of the Receipt Tax, — • 
which, like all other long-lived taxes, was borne v/ith difficulty,— 
appears, as far as we can judge of it from the Report, to have 
been highly amusing. Some country-gentleman having recom- 

* The following jeu d^esprit, wrillen by Sheridan himself upon iliis occurrence, has been 
found among his manuscripts : — 

" Advertisement extraordinary. 

" We hear that, in consequence of a hint, lately given in the House of Commons, the 
Play of the Alchemist is certainly to be performed by a set of Gentlemen for our diversion 
in a private apartment of Buckingham House. 

" The Characters, thus described in the old editions of Ben Jonson, are to be represented 
in tlie following manner — the old practice of men's playing the female parts being adopt- 
ed. 



"Subtle (the Alchemist) . 
Face (the House-keeper) 
Doll Common (th£ir Colleague) 
Drugger (a Tobacco-man) 
Epicure I^Iammon . 
Tribulation . 
Ananias (a little Pastor) 
Kasfrill (th£ Angry B >y) 

Dame Pt.tant .... 

and 
Surly , , 



Lord Sh— 11)— e. 
The Lord Ch— 11— r. 
The I^-d Adv— c— te. 
Lord Eff— ng — m. 
Mr. R— by. 
Dr. J — nk — s — n. 
Mr. H— U. 
Mr. W. P— tt. 
Gen. C — nw — y 

His » 



254 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

mended a tax upon grave-stones as a substitute for itj Sheridan 
replied that 

" Such a tax, indeed, was not easily evaded, and could not be deemed op- 
pressive, as it would only be once paid ; but so great was the spirit of 
clamor against the tax on receipts, that he should not wonder if it extend- 
ed to them ; and that it should be asserted, that persons having paid the last 
debt, — the debt of nature, — government had resolved they should pay a 
receipt-tax, and have it stamped over their grave. Nay, with so extraor- 
dinary a degree of inveteracy were some Committees in the city, and else- 
where, actuated, that if a receipt-tax of the nature in question Vv^as enacted, 
he should not be greatly surprised if it were soon after published, that such 
Committees had unanimously resolved that they would never be buried, in 
order to avoid paying the tax ; but had determined to lie above ground, or 
have their ashes consigned to family-urns, in the manner of the ancients.^' 

He also took an active share in the discussions relative to the 
restoration of Powell and Bembridge to their offices by Mr. 
Burke : — a transaction which, without fixing any direct stigma 
upon that eminent man, subjected him, at least, to the unlucky 
suspicion of being less scrupulous in his notions of official purity, 
than became the party which he espoused or the principles of 
Eeform that he inculcated. 

Little as the Court was disposed, during the late reign, to re- 
tain Whigs in its service any longer than was absolutely neces- 
sary, it must be owned that neither did the latter, in general, 
take very courtier-like modes of continuing their connection with 
Royalty ; but rather chose to meet the hostility of the Crown 
half-way, by some overt act of imprudence or courage, which at 
once brought the matter to an issue between them. Of this 
hardihood the India Bill of Mr. Fox was a remarkable example 
— and he was himself fully aware of the risk which he ran in 
|)roposing it. "He knew," he said, in his speech upon first bringing 
forward the question, '' that the task he had that day set himself 
was extremely arduous and difficult ; he knew that he had con- 
siderable risk in it ; but when he took upon himself an office of 
responsibility, he had made up his mind to the situation and the 
danger of it. ' 

Without agreeing ^vith those who impute to Mr. Fox the ex- 
travagant design of investing himself, by means of this Bill, with 



RIGHT HON. RICHi.KL BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 255 

a sort of perpetual Whig Dictatorship, independent of the will of 
the Crown, it must nevertheless be allowed that, together with 
the interests of India, which were the main object of this decisive 
measure, the future interests and influence of his own party vrere 
in no small degree provided for ; and that a foundation was laid 
by it for their attainment of a more steady footing in power 
than, from the indisposition of the Court towards them, they had 
yet been able to accomplish. Regarding — as he well might, after 
so long an experience of Tory misrule — a government upon 
Whig principles as essential to the true interests of England, 
and hopeless of seeing the experiment at all fairly tried, as long 
as the political existence of the servants of the Crown w^as left 
dependent upon the caprice or treachery of their master, he 
would naturally w^elcome such an accession to the influence of 
the party as might strengthen their claims to power when out of 
oflice, and render their possession of it, when in, more secure and 
useful. These objects the Bill in question would have, no doubt, 
effected. By turning the Pactolus of Indian patronage into the 
territories of Whiggism, it w^ould have attracted new swarms of 
settlers to that region, — the Court would have found itself out- 
bid in the markei, —and, however the principles of the party 
might eventually have fared, the party itself would have been 
so far triumphant. It w^as indeed, probably, the despair of ever 
obtaining admission for Whiggism, in its unalloyed state, into 
the councils of the S^/vereign, that reconciled Mr. Fox to the 
rash step of debasing it down to the Court standard by the 
Coalition — and, having once gained possession of power by these 
means, he saw, in the splendid provisions of the India Bill, a 
chance of being able to transmit it as an heir-loom to his party, 
which, though conscious of the hazard, he was determined to 
try. If his intention, therefore, was, as his enemies say, to 
establish a Dictatorship in his own person, it was, at the worst, 
such a Dictatorship as the Romans sometimes created, for 
the purpose of averting the plague — and would have been di- 
rected merely against that pestilence of Toryism, under which 
the prosperity of England had, he thought, languished so long 



256 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

It was hardly, however, to be expected of Eoyalty, — even 
after the double hiimiliation which it had suffered, in being van- 
quished by rebels under one branch of the Coalition, and brow- 
beaten into acknowledging their independence oj the other — that 
it would tamely submit to such an undisguised invasion of its 
sanctuary ; particularly when the intruders had contrived their 
operations so ill, as to array the people in hostility against them, 
as well as the Throne. Never was there an outcry against a 
ministry so general and decisive. Dismissed insultingly by the 
King on one side, they had to encounter the mdignation of the 
people on the other ; and, though the House of Commons, with a 
fidelity to fallen ministers sufficiently rare, stood by them for a 
time in a desperate struggle with their successors, the voice of 
the Royal Prerogative, like the horn of Astolpho, soon scattered 
the whole body in consternation among their constituents, 
" di qua, di la, di su, di giic,^^ and the result was a complete and 
long-enjoyed triumph to the Throne and Mr. Pitt. 

Though the name of Mr. Fox is indissolubiy connected with 
this Bill, and though he bore it aloft, as fondly as Caesar did his 
own Commentaries, through all this troubled sea of opposition, 
it is to Mr. Burke that the first daring outline of the plan, as well 
as the chief materials for filling it up, are to be attributed. — 
whilst to Sir Arthur Pigot's able hand was entrusted the legal 
task of drawing the Bill. The intense interest which Burke took 
in the affairs of India had led him to lay in such stores of infor- 
mation on the subject, as naturally gave him the lead in all 
deliberations connected vnth it. His labors for the Select 
Committee, the Ninth Report of which is pregnant with iis 
mighty mind, may be considered as the source and foundation 
of this Bill — while of the under-plot, which had in view the 
strengthening of the Whig interest, we find the germ in his 
" Thoughts on the present Discontents," where, in pointing out 
the advantage to England of being ruled by such a confederacy, 
he says, " In one of the most fortunate periods of our history, 
this country was governed by a connection ; I mean the great 
connection of Whigs in the reign of Queen Anne.*' 



mGHT HON. EICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 257 

Burke was, indeed, at this time the actuating spirit of the 
party — as he must have been of any party to which he attached 
himself. Keeping, as he did, the double engines of his genius 
and his industry incessan ly in play over the minds of his more 
indolent colleagues, with an intentness of purpose that nothing 
could divert, and an impetuosity of temper that nothing could 
resist, it is not wonderful that he should have gained such an 
entire mastery over their wills, or that the party who obeyed 
him should so long have exhibited the mark of his rash spirit 
imprinted upon their measures. The yielding temper of Mr. 
Fox, together with his unbounded admiration of Burke, led him 
easily, in the first instance, to acquiesce in the views of his friend, 
and then the ardor of his ?wn nature, and the self-kindling power 
of his eloquence, threw an earnestness and fire into his public 
enforcement of those views, which made even himself forget that 
they were but adopted from another, and impressed upon his 
hearers the conviction that they were all, and from the first, his 
own. 

We read his speeches in defence of the India Bill with a sort 
of breathless anxiety, which no other political discourses, except 
those, perhaps, of Demosthenes, could produce. The impor- 
tance of the stake wKich he risks — the boldness of his plan — the 
gallantry with which he flings himself into the struggle, and the 
frankness of personal feeling that breathes throughout — all throw 
around him an interest, like that which encircles a hero of ro- 
mance ; nor could the most candid autobiography that ever was 
written exhibit the whole character of the man more transpa- 
rently through it. 

The death of this ill-fated Ministry was worthy of its birth. 
Originating in a Coalition of Whigs and Tories, w^hich compro- 
mised the principles of freedom, it was destroyed by a Coalition 
of King and People, which is even, perhaps, more dangerous to 
its p^aciice.'^ The conduct, indeed, of all estates and parties, 

* *' This assumption (says Burke) of the Tribimitian power by the Sovereign was truly 
alarming. Wlien Augustus Csesar modestly cons^nted to become the Tribune of the peo 
pie, Rome gave up into the hands of that prince the only remaining shield she had to pro- 
tect her liberty, The Tribunitian power m this country, as in ancient Pvonie, was wisely 



258 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THfi 

during th s short interval, was any thing but laudable. The lea- 
ven of the unlucky alliance with Lord North was but too visi- 
ble in many of the measures of the Ministry — in the jobbing 
terms of the loan, the resistance to Mr. Pitt's plan of retrench- 
ment, and the diminished numbers on the side of Parliamentary 
Reform.* On the other hand, Mr. Pitt and his party, in their 
eagerness for place, did not hesitate to avail themselves of the 
ambidexterous and unworthy trick of representing the India Bill 
to the people, as a Tory plan for the increase of Royal influence, 
and to the King, as a Whig conspiracy for the curtailment of it. 
The King himself, in his arbitrary interference with the deliberar- 
tions of the Lords, and the Lords, in the prompt servility with 
which so many of them obeyed his bidding, gave specimens of 
their respective branches of the Constitution, by no means cre- 
ditable — while finally the people, by the unanimous outcry with 
which they rose, in defence of the monopoly of Leadenhall Street 
and the sovereign will of the Court, proved how little of the 
" vox i)ei" there may sometimes be in such clamor. 

Mr. Sheridan seems to have spoken but once during the dis- 
cussions on the India Bill, and that was on the third reading, 
when it was carried so triumphantly through th^ House of Com- 
mons. The report of his speech is introduced with the usual 
tantalizing epithets, " witty," " entertaining," &c. &c. ; but, as 
usual, entails disappointment in the perusal — " at cum intraveris, 
Dii Deceque, quam nihil in medio invenies .^"f There is only one 

kept distinct and separate from the executive powf^r ; in this government it was constitu- 
tionally lodged where it was naturally to be lodged, in the House of Commons ; and to 
that House the people ought first to carry their complaints, even when they were directed 
against the measures of the House itself. But now the people were taught to pass by the 
door of the House of Commons and supplicate the Throne for the protection of their liber- 
ties." — Speech on moving his Representation to the King, in June, 1784, 

* The consequences of this alloy were still more visible in Ireland. "The Coalition 
Ministry," says Mr. Hardy, "displayed itself in various employments — but there was no 
harmony. The old courtiers hated the new, and being more dexterous, were more suc- 
cessful." In stating that Lord Charlemont was but coldly receive^ by the Lord Lieuten- 
ant, Lord Northmgton, Mr. Hardy adds, "It is to be presumed thai some of the old Court, 
who in consequence of the Coalition had crept once more into favor, influenced bis con- 
duct in this particular. ' ' 

t Plmy. 



EIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 259 

of the announced pleasantries forthcoming, in any shape, through 
the speech. Mr. Scott (the present Lord Eldon) had, in the 
course of the debate, indulged in a license of Scriptural parody, 
which he would himself, no doubt, be among the first to stigma- 
tize as blasphemy in others, and had affected to discover the rudi- 
ments of the India Bill in a Chapter of the Book of Revelations, 
— Babylon being the East India Company, Mr. Fox and his seven 
Commissioners the Beast with the seven heads, and the marks 
on the hand and forehead, imprinted by the Beast upon those 
around him, meaning, evidently, he said, the peerages, pensions, 
and places distributed by the minister. In answering this strange 
sally of forensic wit, Mr. Sheridan quoted other passages from the 
same Sacred Book, which (as the Reporter gravely assures us) 
" told strongly for the Bill," and which proved that Lord Fitz- 
wdlliam and his fellow-commissioners, instead of being the seven 
heads of the Beast, were seven Angels " clothed in pure and 
white linen !" 



260 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 



CHAPTER IX. 

the prince of wales. — financial measures. — mr. 
Pitt's east india bill. — irish commercial propo- 
sitions. — PLAN OF THE DUKE OF RICHMOND. — SINK- 
ING FUND. 

The Whigs, who had now every reason to be convinced of the 
aversion with which they were regarded at court, had latel} 
been, in some degree, compensated for this misfortune by the ac- 
cession to their party of the Heir Apparent, who had, since the 
year 1783, been in the enjoyment of a separate establishment, 
and taken his seat in the House of Peers as Duke of (Cornwall. 
That a young prince, fond of pleasure and impatient of restraint, 
should have thrown himself into the arms of those who were 
most likely to be indulgent to his errors, is nothing surprising, 
either in politics or ethics. But that mature and enlightened 
statesmen, with the lessons of all history before their eyes, should 
have been equally ready to embrace such a rash alliance, or 
should count upon it as any more than a temporary instrument 
of faction, is, to say the least of it, one of those self-delusions of 
the wise, which show how vainly the voice of the Past may 
speak amid the loud appeals and temptations of the Present. 
The last Prince of Wales, it is true, by whom the popular cause 
was espoused, had left the lesson imperfect, by dying before he 
came to the throne. But this deficiency has since been amply 
made up ; and future Whigs, who may be placed in similar cir- 
cumstances, will have, at least, one historical warnincr before their 
eyes, which ought to be enough to satisfy the most unreflecting 
and credulous. 

In some points, the l^'cach that now took place between the 



'RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 261 

Prince and the King, bore a close resemblance to that which had 
disturbed the preceding reign. In both cases, the Royal parents 
were harsh and obstinate — in both cases, money was the chief 
source of dissension — and, in both cases, the genius, wit, and ac- 
complishments of those with whom the Heir Apparent connected 
himself, threw a splendor round the political bond between them, 
which prevented even themselves from perceiving its looseness 
and fragility. 

In the late question of Mr. Fox's India Bill, the Prince of 
Wales had voted with his political friends in the first division. 
But, upon finding afterwards that the King was hostile to the 
measure, his Royal Highness took the prudent step (and with Mr. 
Fox's full concurrence) of absenting himself entirely from the se- 
cond discussion, when the Bill, as it is known, was finally defeated. 
This circumstance, occurring thus early in their intercourse, might 
have proved to each of the parties in this ill-sorted alliance, how 
difficult it was for them to remain long and creditably united."^ 
On the one side, there was a character to be maintained with the 
people, which a too complaisant toleration of the errors of roy- 

* Tiie following sensible remarks upon the first interruption of the political connection 
between the Heir Apparent and the Opposition, are from an unfinished Life of Mr. Sheri- 
dan now in my possession — written by one whose boyhood was pas'sed in the society of 
the great men whom he undertook to commemorate, and whose station and lalenls would 
liave given to such a work an authenticity and value, that would have rendered the hum- 
ble memorial, which I have atte-mpted, unnecessary : — 

"His Royal Highness acted upon this occasion by Mr. Fox's advice and with pert ect 
propriety. At the same time the necessity under which he found himself of so acting 
may serve as a general warning to Princes of the Blood in this country, to abstain from 
connecting themselves with party, and engaging either as active supporters or opponents 
of the administration of the day. The ties of family, the obligations of their siluation, 
the feelings of the public assuredly will condemn them, at some time or other, as in the 
present instance, to desert their own public acts, to fail in their private professions, and 
to leave their friends at the very mointnt, in which service and support are the most in> 
periously required. 

"Princes are always suspected proselytes to the popular side. Conscious of this sus- 
picion, they strive to do it away by exaggerated professions, and by bringing to the party 
v/hich they espouse more violent opinions and more unmeasured language than any 
which they find. These mighty promises they soon fuid it unreasonable, impossible, in- 
convenient to fulfil. Their dereliction of their principles becomes manifest and indefensi- 
ble, in proportion to the vehemence with which they have pledged themselves always tc 
maintain them ; r.nd the contempt and indignation which accompanie.s their retreat ie 
equivalent to the expectations excited by the boldness and detei nination of their ad 



262 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

aity might — and, as it happened, did compromise ; while, on the 
other side, there were the obligations of filial duty, which, as in 
this instance of the India Bill, made desertion decorous, at a 
time when co-operation would have been most friendly and de- 
sirable. There was also the perpetual consciousness of being 
destined to a higher station, in which, while duty would perhaps 
demand an independence of all party whatever, convenience 
would certainly dictate a release from the restraints of Whig- 
gism. 

It was most fortunate for Mr. Sheridan, on the rout of his 
party that ensued, to find himself safe in his seat for Stafford 
once more, and the following document, connected with his elec- 
tion, is sufficiently curious, in more respects than one, to be laid 
before the reader : 

R, B. Sheridan, Esq. Expenses at the Borough of Stafford for 

Election., Anno 1784. 

284 Burgesses, paid £5 5 each £1,302 

Yearly Expenses since. 

£ 8. d. 

House-rent and taxes 23 6 6 

Servant at 6s. per week, board wages. ... 15 12 

Ditto, yearly wages * 8 8 

Coals,&c 10 

Ale tickets 40 

Half the members' plate 25 

Swearing young burgesses 10 

Subscription to the Infirmary 5 5 

Ditto Clergymen's widows 2 2 

Ringers 4 4 

86 11 

One year 143 17 6 

Multiplied by years. ... 6 

863 5 

Total expense of six years' parliament, exclusive of ex- 
pense incurred during the time of election, and your 
own annual expenses ., £2,165 5 



RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 263 

The followers of the Coalition had been defeated in almost all 
directions, and it was computed that no less than 160 of them 
had been left upon the field, — with no other consolation than 
what their own wit afforded them, in the title which they be- 
stowed upon themselves of " Fox's Martyrs." 

This reduction in the ranks of his enemies, at the very com- 
mencement of his career, left an open space for the youthful 
minister, which was most favorable to the free display of his 
energies. He had, indeed, been indebted, throughout the whole 
struggle, full as much to a lucky concurrence of circumstances 
as to his talents and name for the supremacy to which he so 
rapidly rose. All the other eminent persons of the day had ei- 
ther deeply entangled themselves in party ties, or taken the 
gloss off their reputations by some unsuccessful or unpopular 
measures ; and as he was the only man independent enough of 
the House of Commons to be employed by the King as a weapon 
against it, so was he the only one sufficiently untried in public 
life, to be able to draw unlimitedly on the confidence of the 
people, and array them, as he did, in all the enthusiasm of igno- 
rance, on his side. Without these two advantages, which he 
owed to his youth and inexperience, even loftier talents than his 
would have fallen far short of his triumph. 

The financial affairs of the country, which the war had consider- 
ably deranged, and which none of the ministries that ensued felt 
sure enough of themselves to attend to, were, of course, among 
the first and most anxious objects of his administration ; and the 
wisdom of the measures which he brought forward for their 
amelioration was not only candidly acknowledged by his oppo- 
nents at the time, but forms at present the least disputable 
ground, upon which his claim to reputation as a finance-minister 
rests. Having found, on his accession to power, an annual defi- 
ciency of several millions in the revenue, he, in the course of 
two years, raised the income of the country so high as to afford 
a surplus for the establishment of his Sinking Fund. Nor did 
his merit lie only in the mere increase of income, but in the 
generally sound principles of the taxation by which he apcpm 



264 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

plished it, in the improvements introduced into the collection of 
the revenue, and the reform effected in the offices connected with 
it, by the simplification of the mode of keeping public accounts. 

Though Mr. Sheridan delivered his opinion upon many of the 
taxes proposed, his objections were rather to the details than the 
general object of the measures ; and it may be reckoned, indeed, 
a part of the good fortune of the minister, that the financial de- 
partment of Opposition at this time was not assumed by any 
more adventurous calculator, who might have perplexed him, at 
least by ingenious cavils, however he might have failed to defeat 
him by argument. As it was, he had the field almost entirely to 
himself; for Sheridan, though acute, was not industrious enough 
to be formidable, and Mr. Fox, from a struggle, perhaps, between 
candor and party-feeling, absented himself almost entirely from 
the discussion of the new taxes.* 

The only questions, in which the angry spirit of the late con- 
flict still survived, were the Westminster Scrutiny and Mr. Pitt's 
East India Bill. The conduct of the minister in the former trans- 
action showed that his victory had not brought with it those 
generous feelings towards the vanquished, which, in the higher 
order of minds, follows as naturally as the calm after a tempest. 
There must, indeed, have been something peculiarly harsh and 
unjust in the proceedings against his great rival on this occasion, 
which could induce so many of the friends of the minister — 
then in the fulness of his popularity and power — to leave" him 
in a minority and vote against the continuance of the Scrutiny. 
To this persecution, however, we are indebted for a speech of 
Mr. Fox, which is (as he, himself, in his opening, pronounced it 
would be) one of his best and noblest ; and which is reported, 
too, with such evident fidelity, as well as spirit, that we seem to 
hear, while we read, the " Demosthenem ipsuin''' uttering it. 

Sheridan had, it appears, written a letter, about this time, to 
his brother Charles, in which, after expressing the feelings of 

* "He had absented himself," he said, "upon principle ; that, though he might not be 
able to approve of the measures which had been adopted, he did not at the same time 
think hiif self authorized to condemn them, or to give them opposition, un'ess he had been 
ready to suggest others less distressing to the sul^ject " — Speech on Navy Bills, dec. c£c. 



RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 265 

himself and his brother Whigs, at the late unconstitutional vio 
tory over their party, he added, " But you are all so void of 
principle, in Ireland, that you cannot enter into our situation." 
Charles Sheridan, who, in the late changes, had not thought it 
necessary to pay his principles the compliment of sacrificing his 
place to them, considered himself, of course, as included in this 
stigma ; and the defence of time-serving politics which he has 
set up in his answer, if not so eloquent as that of the great Ro- 
man master of this art in his letter to L^ntulus, is, at least, as 
self-conscious and labored, and betrays altogether a feeling but 
too worthy of the political meridian f ^om which it issued. 

"My dear Dick, Dublin Castle, lOth March, 1784. 

" I am much obliged to you for the letter you sent me by 
Orde ; I began to think you had forgot I was in existence, but 1 
forgive your past silence on account of your recent kind atten- 
tion. The new Irish administration have come with the olive 
branch in their hand, and very wisely, I thinK ; the system, ^he 
circumstances, and the manners cf the two count.rip^ are so to- 
tally different, that I can assure you nothing could be so absurd 
as any attempt to extend the party-distinctions which prevail on 
your side of the water, to this. Nothing, I will venture to as- 
sert, can possibly preserve the connection between England and 
Ireland, but a permanent government here, acting upon fixed 
principles, and pursuing systematic measures. For this reason 
a change of Chief Governor, ought to be nothing more than a 
simple transfer of government, and by no means to make any 
change in that political system respecting this country which 
England must adopt, let who will be the minister and whichever 
party may acquire the ascendancy, if she means to preserve Ire- 
land as a part of the British empire. 

"You will say this is a very good plan for people in place, as 
it tends to secure them against all contingencies, but this, I give 
you my word, is not my reason for thinking as I do. I must, 
in the first place, acquaint you that there never can be hereafter 
in this country any such thing as party connections founded upon 

yoL J. 1? 



266 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

political principles ; we have obtained all the great objects fol 
which Ireland had contended for many years, and there does not 
now remain one national object of sufficient importance to unite 
men in the same pm^siiit. Nothing but such objects ever did 
unite men in tliis kingdom, and that not from principle, but be- 
cause the spirit of the people was so far roused with respect to 
points in which the pride, the interest, the commerce, and the 
prosperity of the nation at large was so materially concerned, 
that the House of Commons, if they had not the virtue to for- 
ward, at least wanted the courage to oppose, the general and de- 
termined wish of the whole kingdom ; they therefore made a 
virtue of necessity, joined the standard of a very small popular 
party ; both Ins and Oxcts voted equally against government, 
the latter of course, and the former because each individual 
thought himself safe in the number who followed his example. 

" This is the only instance, I beJieve, in the history of Irish 
politics, where a party ever appeared to act upon public princi- 
ple, and as the cause of this singular instance has been removed 
by the attainment of the only objecto which could have united 
men in one pursuit, it is not probable that we shall in future fur- 
nish any other example that will do honor to our public spirit. 
If you reflect an instant, you w^ill perceive that our subordinate 
situation necessarily prevents the foimation of any party among 
us, like those you have in England, 3omDOsed of persons acting 
upon certain principles, and pledged to support each other. I 
am willing to allow you that your exertions are directed by 
public spirit ; but if those exertions did net lead to power ^ you 
must acknowledge that it is probable they would not be m.ade, 
or, if made, that they would not be of much ust-. The object 
of a party in England is either to obtain power for themselves, 
or to take it from those who are in possession of it — they may 
do this from the purest motives, and with the truest regard for 
the public good, but still you must allow that power is a very 
tempting object, the hopes of obtaining it no small incentive to 
their exertions, and the consequences of success to the individuals 
of which the party is composed, no small strengthening to the 



RIGHT HOK. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 267 

bands which unite them together. Now, il' you were to expect 
similar parties to be formed in Ireland, you would exact of us 
more virtue than is necessary for yourselves. From the pecu- 
liar situation of this country it is impossible that the exertions of 
any party here can ever lead to loower. Here then is one very 
tempting object placed out of our reach, and, with it, all those 
looked-for consequences to individuals, which, with you, induce 
them to pledge themselves to each other ; so that nothing but 
poor public spirit would be left to keep our Irish party together, 
and consequently a greater degree of disinterestedness would 
be necessary in them, than is requisite in one of your English 
parties. 

" That no party exertion here can ever lead to power is ob- 
vious when you reflect, that we have in fact no Irish government ; 
all power here being lodged in a branch of the English govern- 
ment, we have no cabinet, no administration of our own, no 
great offices of state, every office we have is merely ministerial, 
it confers no power but that of giving advice, which may or may 
not be followed by the Chief Governor. As all power, there- 
fore, is lodged solely in the English government, of which the 
Irish is only a branch, it necessarily follows that no exertion of 
any party here could ever lead to power, unless they overturned 
the English government in this country, or unless the efforts of 
such a party in the Irish House of Commons could overturn the 
British administration in England, and the leaders of it get into their 
places ; — the first, you will allow, would not be a very wise ob- 
ject, and the latter you must acknowledge to be impossible. 

" Upon the same principle, it would be found very difficult to 
form a party in this country which should co-operate with any 
particular party in England, and consent to stand or fall with 
them. The great leading interests in this kingdom are of course 
strongly averse to forming any such connections on your side of 
the water, as it would tend to create a fluctuation in the affairs 
of this country, that would destroy all their consequence ; and, 
as to the personal friends which a party in England may possi- 
bly have in this country, they must in the nature of things be 



268 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

few in number, and consequently could only injure themselves 
by following the fortunes of a party in England, without being 
able to render that party the smallest service. And, at all 
events, to such persons this could be nothing but a losing game. 
It would be, to refuse to avail themselves of their connections or 
talents in order to obtain office or honors, and to rest all their 
pretensions upon the success of a party in another kingdom, to 
which success they could not in the smallest degree contribute. 
You will admit that to a party in England, no friends on this 
side of the water would be worth having who did not possess 
connections or talents ; and if they did possess these, they must 
of course force themselves into station, let the government of 
this country be in whose hands it may, and that upon a much 
more permanent footing than if they were connected with a par- 
ty in England. What therefore could they gain by such a con- 
nection ? nothing but the virtue of self-denial, in continuing out 
of office as long as their friends were so, the chance of coming 
in, when their friends obtained power, and only the chance, for 
there are interests in this country which must not be offended ; 
and the certainty of going out whenever their friends in Eng- 
land should be dismissed. So that they would exchange the 
certainty of station upon a permanent footing acquired by their 
own efforts, connections or talents, for the chance of station upon 
a most precarious footing, in which they would be placed in the 
insignificant predicament of doing nothing for themselves, and 
resting their hopes and ambition upon the labors of others. 

" In addition to what I have said respecting the consequences 
of the subordinate situation of this country, you are to take into 
consideration how peculiarly its inhabitants are circumstanced. 
Two out of three millions are Roman Catholics — I believe the 
proportion is still larger — and two-thirds of the remainder 
are violent rank Presbyterians, who have always been, but most 
particularly of late, strongly averse to all government placed in 
the hands of the members of the church of England ; nine-tenths 
of the property, the landed property of the country I mean, is 
in the possession of the latter. You will readily conceive how 



RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 269 

much these circumstances must give persons of property in this 
kingdom a leaning towards government ; how necessarily they must 
make them apprehensive for themselves, placed between such 
potent enemies ; and how naturally it must make them look up 
to English government, in whatever hands it may be, for that 
strength and support, which the smallness of their numbers pre- 
vents their finding among themselves ; and conseque^ntly you 
w^ill equally perceive that those political or party principles 
which create such serious differences among you in England, are 
matters of small importance to the persons of landed property 
in this country, when compared with the necessity of their hav- 
ing the constant support of an English government. Here, my 
dear Dick, is a very long answer to a very few lines in your 
postscript. But I could not avoid boring you on the subject, 
when you say ^ that we are all so void of principle that we can- 
not enter into your situation.' 

" I have received with the greatest pleasure the accounts of 
the very considerable figure you have made this sessions in the 
House of Commons. As I have no doubt but that your Parlia- 
ment will be. dissolved, God send you success a second time at 
Stafford, and the same to your friend at Westminster. I will 
not forgive you if you do not give me the first intelligence of both 
those events. I shall say nothing to you on the subject of your 
English politics, only that I feel myself much more partial to 
one side of the question than, in my present situation, it would 
be of any use to me to avow. I am the happiest domestic man 
in the world, and am in daily expectation of an addition to that 
happiness, and ow^n that a home, which I never leave without re- 
gret, nor return to without delight, has somewhat abated my 
passion for politics, and that warmth I once felt about public 
questions. But it has not abated the warmth of my private 
friendships ; it has not abated my regard for Fitzpatrick, my 
anxiety for you, and the warmth of my wishes for the success 
of your friends, considering them as such. I beg my love to 
Mrs. Sheridan and Tom, and am, dear Dick, 

" Most atfectionately yours, C. F. Sheridan." 



270 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

With respect to the Bill for the better government of Tndia, 
which Mr. Pitt substituted for that of his defeated rival, its pr> 
visions are now, from long experience, so familiarly known, that 
it would be superfluous to dwell upon either their merits or 
defects.* The two important points in which it diifered from the 
measure of Mr. Fox were, m leaving the management of 
their commercial concerns still in the hands of the Company, 
and in making the Crown the virtual depositary of Indian patron- 
age,f instead of suffering it to be diverted into the channels of 
the Whig interest, — never, perhaps, to find its way back again. 
In which of these directions such an accession of power might, 
with least mischief to the Constitution, be bestowed, having the 
experience only of the use made of it on one side, we cannot, with 
any certainty, pretend to determine. One obvious result of this 
transfer of India to the Crown has been that smoothness so re- 
markable in the movements of the system ever since — that easy 
and noiseless play of its machinery, which the lubricating contact 
of Influence alone could give, and which was wholly unknown in 
Indian policy, till brought thus by Mr. Pitt under ministerial con- 
trol. When we consider the stormy course of Eastern politics 
before that period — the inquiries, the exposures, the arraignments 
that took place — the constant hunt after Indian delinquency, in 
which Ministers joined no less keenly than the Opposition — and 
then compare all this with the tranquillity that has reigned, since 
the halcyon incubation of the Board of Control over the waters, 

* Tliree of the principal provisions were copied from the Propositions of Lord North in 
1781 — in allusion to which Mr. Powys said of the measure, that "it was the voice of Ja- 
cob, but the hand of Esau."' 

f " Mr. Pitt's Bill continues the form of the Company's government, and professes to 
leave the patronage under certain conditions, and the commerce without condition, in the 
hands of the Company ; but j)laces all matters relating to the civil and military govern- 
ment and revenues in the hands of six Commissioners, to be nominated and appointed by 
His Majesty, under the title of 'Commissioners of the Afiairs of India,' which Board of 
Commissioners is invested with the ' superintendence and control over all the British ter- 
ritorial possessions in the East Indies, and over the affairs of the United Company of Mer- 
chants trading thereto.' " — Comparative Statement of the Two Bills, read from his place by 
Mr. Sheridan, on the Discussion of the Declaratory Acts in 1788, and afterwards published. 

In another part of this statement he says, "The present Board of Control have, under 
Mr. Pitt's Bill, usurped those very imperial prerogatives from the Crovni, which were 
falsely said to have been given to the new Board of Directors under Mr. Fox's Bill.'^ 



iiiaHT Ron. kichabd briksley shekidan. 271 

— though we may allow the full share that actual reform and a 
better system of government may claim in this change, there is 
still but too much of it to be attributed to causes of a less 
elevated nature, — to the natural abatement of the watchfulness 
of the minister, over affairs no longer in the hands of others, 
and to that power of Influence, which, both at home and abroad, 
is the great and ensuring bond of tranquillity, and, like the 
Chain of Silence mentioned in old Irish poetry, binds all that 
come within its reach in the same hushing spell of compromise 
and repose. 

It was about this time that, in the course of an altercation with 
Mr. Eolle, the member for Devonshire, Mr. Sheridan took the 
opportunity of disavowing any share in the political satires then 
circulating, under the titles of " The Rolliad " and the " Proba- 
tionary Odes." " He was aware," he said, "that the Honorable 
Gentlemen had suspected that he was either the author of those 
compositions, or some way or other concerned in them ; but he 
assured them, upon his honor, he was not — nor had he ever seen 
a line of them till they were in print in the newspaper." 

Mr. Rolle, the hero of The Rolliad, was one of those unlucky 
persons, whose destiny it is to be immortalized by ridicule, and 
to whom the world owes the same sort of gratitude for the wit 
of which they were the butts, as the merchants did, in Sinbad's 
story, to those pieces of meat to which diamonds adhered. The 
chief offence, besides his political obnoxiousness, by which he 
provoked this satirical warfare, (whose plan of attack was all 
arranged at a club held at Becket's,) was the lead which he took 
in a sort of conspiracy, formed on the ministerial benches, tc 
interrupt, by coughing, hawking, and other unseemly noises, the 
speeches of Mr. Burke. The chief writers of these lively pro- 
ductions were Tickell, General Fitzpatrick,* Lord John •(• Towns 

* To General Fitzpatrick some of the happiest pleasantries are to be attributed ; amonj- 
others, the verses on Brooke Watson, those on the Marquis of Graham, and "The Liars." 

f Lord John Townshend, the only survivor, at present, of this confederacy of wits, was 
the author, in conjunction with Tickell. of Hie admirable Satire, entitled " Jekyll," — 
Tickell havmg contributed only the lines pM.rodied from Pope. To the exquisite humor of 
Lord Jonn we owe also the Probationary Ode for Major i-'cott, and the playful parody on 
" Donee gratus exam tibi.^' 



272 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

hend, Richardson, George Ellis, and Dr. Lawrence.* There 
were also a few minor contributions from the pens of Bate Dud- 
ley, Mr. O'Beirne (afterwards Bishop of Meath), and Sheridan's 
friend, Read. In two of the writers, Mr. Ellis and Dr. Law- 
rence, we have a proof of the changeful nature of those atoms, 
whose concourse for the time constitutes Party, and of the vola- 
tilit} with which, like the motes in the sunbeam, described by 
Lucretius, they can 

^' Commutare viam, retroque repulsa reverti 
Nunc hue, nunc illuCy in cunctas denique partes.'^ 

Change their light course, as fickle chance may guide, 
Now here, now there, and shoot from side to side. 

Dr. Lawrence was afterwards a violent supporter of Mr. Pitt, 
and Mr. Ellisf showed the versatility of his wit, as well as of his 
politics, by becoming one of the most brilliant contributors to 
The Antijacobin. 

TheRolliad and The Antijacobin may, on their respective sides 
of the question, be considered as models of that style of political 
satire,J whose lightness and vivacity give it the appearance of 

* By Doctor Lawrence the somewhat ponderous irony of the prosaic department was 
chiefly manaj^ed. In alhision to the personal appearance of this eminent civilian, one of 
the wits of the day thus parodied a passage of Virgil : 

" Quo fetrior alter 
Non fuit, excepto IjimTenth corpore Tuimi.^' 
f It is related that, on one occasion, when Mr. Ellis was dining with Mr. Pitt, and em- 
barrassed naturally'- by the recollection of what he had been guilty of towards his host in 
The Rolliad, some of his brother-wits, to amuse themselves at his expense, endeavored to 
lead the conversation to the suhiect of this work, by asking him various questions, as to 
its authors, &c., — which Mr. Pitt overhearing, from the upper end of the table, leaned 
kindly towards Ellis and said, 

*' Immo age, et a prima, die, hospes, origine nobis.'' ^ 

The word " hospes,^^ applied to the new convert, was happy, and the '■'■ errorezque tuos,^^ 
Iha* follows, was, perhaps, left to be implied. 

X The following just observations upon The Rolliad and Probationary Odes occur m the 
manuscript Life of Sheridan which I have already cited : — '-They are, in most instances, 
specimens of the powers of men, who, giving themselves up lo ease and pleasure, neither 
improved their minds with great industry, nor exerted them with much activity ; and have 
therefore left no very considerable nor durable memorials ot the liappy and vigorous abil- 
iiics with which nature had Cc rtainly endowed tliem. The effusions themselves are full of 



felGHT HON. RICHARD BRlKSLEY SHERIDAN. 27S 

proceeding rather from the wantonness of wit than of ill-nature, 
and whose very malice, from the fancy with which it is mixed up, 
like certain kinds of fireworks, explodes in sparkles. They, 
however, who are most inclined to forgive, in consideration of its 
polish and playfulness, the personality in which the writers of 
both these works indulged, will also readily admit that by no 
less shining powers can a license so questionable be either as- 
sumed or palliated, and that nothing but the lively effervescence 
of the draught can. make us forget the bitterness infused into it. 
At no time was this truth ever more strikingly exemplified than 
at present, when a separation seems to have taken place between 
satire and wit, which leaves the former like the toad, without the 
"jewel in its head;" and when the hands, into which the weapon 
of personality has chiefly fallen, have brought upon it a stain and 
disrepute, that vdU long keep such writers as those of the Rolliad 
and Antijacobin from touching it again. 

Among other important questions, that occupied the attention 
of Mr. Sheridan at this period, was the measure brought forward 
under the title of '* Irish Commercial Propositions " for the pur- 
pose of regulating and finally adjusting the ' commercial inter- 
course between England and Ireland. The line taken by him 
and Mr. Fox in their opposition to this plan was such as to ac- 
cord, at once with the prejudices of the English manufacturers 
and the feelings of the Irish patriots, — the former regarding the 
measure as fatal to their interests, and the latter rejecting with 

fortunate allusions, ludicrous terms, artful panegyric, and well-ainied satire. The verses 
are at times far superior to the occasion, and the whole is distinguished by a taste, both 
in language and matter, perfectly pure and classical ; but they are mere occasional pro- 
ductions. They will sleep with the papers of the Craftsman, so vaunted in their own 
lime, but which are never now raked up, except by the curiosity of the historian and the 
man of literature. 

"Wit, being generally founded upon the manners and charact-rs of its own day, is 
crowned in that day, beyond all other exertions of the mind, with splendid and mime- 
diate success. Bat there is always something that equalizes. In return, more than any 
other production, it suffers suddenly and irretrievably from the hand of Time. It receives 
a character the most opposite to its own. From being the most generally understood and 
perceived, it becomes of all writing the most difficult and the most obscure. Satires, 
whose meaning was open to the multitude, defy the erudition of the scholar, and comedies, 
of which every line was felt as soon as it was spok3n, require the labor of an antiquary 
lo explain them.' 

VOL. I. 12* 



274 MEMOIKS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

indignation the boon which it offered, as coupled with a condition 
for the surrender of the legislative independence of their country. 

In correct viows of political economy, the advantage through- 
out this discussion was wholly on the side of the minister ; and, 
in a speech of Mr. Jenkinson, we find (advanced, indeed, but 
incidentally, and treated by Mr. Fox as no more than amusing 
theories,) some of those liberal principles of trade which have 
since been more fully developed, and by which the views of all 
practical statesmen are, at the present day, directed. The little 
interest attached by Mr. Fox to the science of Political Economy 
— so remarkably proved by the fact of his never having read the 
work of Adam Smith on the subject — is, in some degree, ac- 
counted for by the skepticism of the following passage, which 
occurs in one of his animated speeches on this very question. 
Mr. Pitt having asserted, in answer to those who feared the 
competition of Ireland in the market from her low prices of 
labor, that "great capital would in all cases overbalance cheap- 
ness of labor," Mr. Fox questions the abstract truth of this 
position, and adds, — " General positions of all kinds ought to be 
very cautiously admitted ; indeed, on subjects so infinitely com- 
plex and mutable as politics and commerce, a wise man hesitates 
at giving too implicit a credit to any general maxim of any de- 
nomination." 

If the surrender of any part of her legislative power could 
have been expected from Ireland in that proud moment, when her 
new-born Independence was but just beginning to smile in her lap, 
the acceptance of the terms then profiered by the Minister, 
might have averted much of the evils, of which she was after- 
wards the victim. The proposed plan being, in itself, (as Mr. 
Grattan called it,) " an incipient and creeping Union," would 
have prepare^d the way less violently for the completion of that 
fated measure, and spared at lo.ast the corruption and the blood 
which were the preliminaries of its perpetration at last. But the 
pride, so natural and honorable to the Irish — had fate but placed 
them in a situation to assert it with any permanent effect — re- 
pelled the idea of being bound even by the commercial regn 



RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 275 

lations of England. The wonderful eloquence of Grattan, which, 
like an eagle guarding her young, rose grandly in defence of the 
freedom to which itself had given birth, would alone have been 
sufficient to determine a whole nation to his will. Accordingly 
such demonstrations of resistance were made both by people 
and parliament, that the Commercial Propositions were given 
up by the minister, and this apparition of a Union withdrawn 
from the eyes of Ireland for the present — merely to come again, 
in another shape, with many a " mortal murder on its crown, 
and push her from her stool." 

As Mr. Sheridan took a strong interest in this question, and 
spoke at some length on every occasion when it was brought be- 
fore the House, I will, in order to enable the reader to judge of 
his manner of treating it, give a few passages from his speech 
on the discussion of that Resolution, which stipulated for Eng- 
land a control over the external legislation of Ireland : — 

''Upon this view, it would be an imposition on common sense to pretend 
that Ireland could in future have the exercise of free will or discretion 
upon any of those subjects of legislation, on which she now stipulated to 
follow the edicts of Great Britain ; and it was a miserable sophistry to con- 
tend, that her being permitted the ceremony of placing those laws upon 
her own Statute-Book, as a form of promulgating them, was an argument 
that it was not the British but the Irish statutes that bound the people of 
Ireland. For his part, if he were a member of the Irish Parliament, he 
should prefer the measure of enacting by one decisive vote, that all British 
laws to the purposes stipnlated, should have immediate operation in Ire- 
land as in Great Britain ; choosing rather to avoid the mockery of enacting 
without deliberation, and deciding where they had no pov/er to dissent. 
Where fetters were to be worn, it w^as a wretched ambition to contend for 

the distinction of fastening our own shackles." 

***** 

'• All had been delusion, trick, and fallacy : a new scheme of commercial 
arrangement is proposed to the Irish as a boon ; and the surrender of their 
Constitution is tacked to it as a mercantile regulation. Ireland, newly es- 
caped from harsh trammels and severe discipline, is treated like a high- 
mettled horse, hard to catch ; and the Irish Secretary is to return to the 
field, soothing and coaxing him, with a sieve of provender in one hand, 
but with a bridle in the other, ready to slip over his head while he is snuf- 
fling at the food. But this political jockeyship, he was convinced, would 
not succeed.^' 



^76 Memoirs of' the life of tm 

In defending the policy, as well as generosity of the conces- 
sions made to Ireland by Mr. Fox in 1782, he says, — 

" Fortunately for the peace and future union of the two kingdoms, no 
such miserable and narrow policy entered into the mind of his Right Hon- 
orable friend ; he disdained the injustice of bargaining with Ireland on 
such a subject ; nor would Ireland have listened to him if he had attempt- 
ed it. She had not applied to purchase a Constitution ; and if a tribute or 
contribution had been demanded in return for what was then granted, those 
patriotic spirits who were at that time leading the oppressed people of that 
insulted country to the attainment of their just rights, would have pointed 
to other modes of acquiring them ; would have called to them in the 
words of Camillus, arrna aptare at^ue ferro non auro patriam et libertatem 
recnperareJ^^ 

The following passage is a curious proof of the short-sighted 
views which prevailed at that period, even among the shrewdest 
men, on the subject of trade: — 

" There was one point, however, in which he most completely agreed 
with the manufacturers of this country ; namely, in their assertion, that if 
the Irish trader should be enabled to meet the British merchant and manu- 
facturer in the British market, the gain of Ireland must be the loss of Eng- 
land.* This was a fact not to be controverted on any principle of common 
sense or reasonable argument. The pomp of general declamation and 
waste of fine words, which had on so many occasions been employed to dis- 
guise and perplex this plain simple truth, or still more fallaciously to en- 
deavor to prove that Great Britain would find her balance in the Irish mar- 
ket, had only tended to show the w^eakness and inconsistency of the doc- 
trine they were meant to support. The truth of the argument was with 
the manufacturers ; and this formed, in Mr. Sheridan-s mind, a ground o\ 
one of the most vehement objections he had to the present plan." 

It was upon the clamor, raised at this time by the English 
manufacturers, at the prospect of the privileges about to be 
granted to the trade of Ireland, that Tickell, whose wit was al- 
ways on the watch for such opportunities, wrote the following 
fragment, found among the papers of Mr. Sheridan : — 

" A Vision. 

" After supping on a few Colchester oysters and a small Welsh rabbit, I 

* Mr. Fox also said, " Ireland cannot make a single acquisition but to the proportionatA 
JOSS of England 



RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN". 277 

went to bed last Tu }sday night at a quarter before eleven o'clock. I slept 
quietly for near two hours, at the expiration of which period, my slumber 
was indeed greatly disturbed by the oddest train of images I ever experi- 
enced. I thought that every individual article of my usual dress and fur- 
niture was suddenly gifted with the powers of speech, and all at once 
united to assail me with clamorous reproaches, for my unpardonable ne- 
glect of their common interests, in the great question of surrendering our 
British commerce to Ireland. My hat, my coat, and every button on it, 
my Manchester waistcoat, my silk breeches, my Birmingham buckles, my 
shirt-buttons, my shoes, my stockings, my garters, and what was more 
troublesome, my night-cap, all joined in a dissonant volley of petitions and 
remonstrances — which, as I found it impossible to wholly suppress, I 
thought it most prudent to moderate, by soliciting them to communicate 
their ideas individually. It was with some difficulty they consented to even 
this proposal, which they considered as a device to extinguish their gene- 
ral ardor, and to break the force of their united efforts ; nor would they 
by any means accede to it, till I had repeatedly assured them, that as soon 
as I heard them separately, I would appoint an early hour for receiving 
them in a joint body. Accordingly, having fixed these preliminaries, my 
Night-cap thought proper to slip up immediately over my ears, and disen- 
gaging itself from my temples, called upon my Waistcoat, who was rather 
carelessly reclining on a chair, to attend him immediately at the foot of the 
bed. My Sheets and Pillow-cases, being all of Irish extraction, stuck close 
to me, however, — which was uncommonly fortunate, for, not only my Cur- 
tains had drawn off to the foot of the bed, but my Blankets also had the 
audacity to associate themselves with others of the woollen fraternity, at 
the first outset of this household meeting. Both my Towels attended as 
evidences at the bar, — but my Pocket-handkerchief, notwithstanding his 
uncommon forwardness to hold forth the banner of sedition, was thought to 
be a character of so mixed a complexion, as rendered it more decent for 
him to reserve his interference till my Snuff-box could be heard — which was 
settled accordingly. 

^' At length, to my inconceivable astonishment, my Night-cap, attended 
as I have mentioned, addressed me in the following terms : — " 



Early as was the age at which Sheridan had been transplanted 
from Ireland — never to set foot upon his native land again — the 
feeling of nationality remained with him warmly through life, 
arid he w^as, to the last, both fond and proud of his country. 
The zeal, with which he entered, at this period, into Irish politics, 
may be judged of from some letters, addressed to him in th*3 



278 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

year 1785, by Mr. Isaac Corry, who was at that time a member 
of the Irish Opposition, and combated the Commercial Proposi- 
tions as vigorously as he afterwards, when Chancellor of the Ex- 
chequer, defended their " consummate flower," the Union. A 
few extracts from these letters will give some idea of the inter- 
est attached to this question by the popular party in both coun- 
tries. 

The following, dated August 5, 1785, was written during the 
adjournment of ten days, that preceded Mr. Orde's introduction 
of the Propositions : — 

" Your most welcome letter, after hunting me some days 
through the country, has at length reached me. I wish you had 
sent some notes of your most excellent speech ; but such as we 
have must be given to the public — admirable commentary upon 
Mr. Pitt's Apology to the People of Ireland^ which must also be 
published in the manner fitting it. The addresses were sent 
round to all the towns in the kingdom, in order to give currency 
to the humbug. Being upon the spot, I have my troops in per- 
fect order, and am ready at a moment's warning for any manoeu- 
vre which may, when we meet in Dublin previous to the next 
sitting, be thought necessary to follow the petitions for post- 
poning. 

" We hear astonishing accounts of your greatness in particu- 
lar. Paddy will, I suppose, some beau jour be voting you ano- 
ther 50,000,* if you go on as you have done. 

" I send to-day dowm to my friend, O'Neil, w^ho waits for a 
signal only, and we shall go up together. Brownlow is just be- 
side me, and I shall ride over this morning to get him up to con 

sultation in town we must get our Whig friends in 

^England to engraft a few slips -of Whiggism here — till that is 
done, there will be neither Constitution for the people nor sta- 
bility for the Government.* 

" Charlemont and I were of opinion that we should not make 
the volunteers speak upon the present business ; so I left it out 

* Alluding to the recent vote of that sum to Mr. Grattan. 



RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 279 

ill the Resolutions at our late review. They are as tractable as 
we could desire, and we can manage them completely. We in- 
culcate all moderation — were we to slacken in that, they would 
instantly step forward." 

The date of the following letter is August 10th — two days be- 
fore Mr. Orde brought forward the Propositions. 

"We have got the bill entire, sent about by Orde. The 
more it is read, the less it is liked. I made notable use of the 
clause you sent me before the whole arrived. We had a select 
meeting to-day of the D. of Leinster, Charlemont, Conolly, 
Grattan, Forbes, and myself We think of moving an address 
to postpone to-morrow till the 15th of January, and have also 
some resolutions ready pro re natd, as we don't yet know what 
shape they will put the business into ; — Conolly to move. To- 
morrow morning we settle the Address and Resolutions, and 
after that, to-morrow, meet more at large at Leinster House. 
All our troops muster pretty well. Mountmorris is here, and to 
be with us to-morrow morning. We reckon on something like 
a hundred, and some are sanguine enough to add near a score 
above it — that is too much. The report of to-night is that Orde 
is not yet ready for us, and will beg a respite of a few days — 
Beresford is not yet arrived, and that is said to be the cause. 
Mornington and Poole are come — -their muster is as strict as 
ours. If we divide any thing like a hundred, they will not dare 
to take a victory over us. Adieu, yours most truly, 

' " I. C." 

The motion for bringing in the Bill was carried only by a ma- 
jority of nineteen, which is thus announced to Mr. Sheridan by 
his correspondent : — 

" I congratulate with you on 108 minority — against 127. The 
business never can go on. They were astonished, and looked 
the sorriest devils you can imagine. Orde's exhibition was piti- 
ful indeed — the support of his party weak and open to attack — 
the debate on their part really poor. On ours, Conolly, O'Neill. 



280 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

and the other country gentlemen, strong and of great weight — • 
Grattan able and eloquent in an uncommon degree — every body 
in high spirits, and altogether a force that was irresistible. We 
divided at nine this morning, on leave to bring in a Bill for the 
settlement. The ground fought upon was the Fourth Resolution, 
and the principle of that in the others. The commercial detail 
did not belong accurately to the debate, though some went over 
it in a cursory way. Grattan, two hours and a half — Flood as 
much— the former brilliant, well attended to, and much admired 
— the latter tedious from detail ; of course, not so wxll heard, 
and answered by Foster in detail, to refutation. 

" The Attorney General defended the constitutional safety 
under the Fourth-Resolution principle. Orde mentioned the 
Opposition in England twice in his opening speech, with impu- 
tations, or insinuations at least, not very favorable. You were 
not left undefended. Forbes exerted his w^arm attachment to 
you with great effect — Burgh, the flag-ship of the Leinster squad- 
ron, gave a well-supported fire pointed against Pitt, and covering 
you. Hardy (the Bishop of Down's friend) in a very elegant 
speech gave you due honor ; and I had the satisfaction of a slight 
skirmish, which called up the Attorney General, &c. . . ." 

On the 15th of August Mr. Orde withdrew his Bill, and Mr. 
Corry writes — '' I wish you joy a thousand times of our complete 
victory. Orde has offered the Bill — moved its being printed for 
his own justification to the country, and no more of it this ses- 
sion. We have the effects of a complete victory." 

Another question of much less importance, but more calcu- 
lated to call forth Sheridan's various powers, was the Plan of the 
Duke of Richmond for the fortification of dock-yards, which Mr. 
Pitt brought forward (it was said, wath much reluctance) in the 
session of 1786, and w^hich Sheridan must have felt the greater 
pleasure in attacking, from the renegade conduct of its noble au- 
thor in politics. In speaking of the Report of a Board of Gene- 
ral Officers, which had been appointed to examine into the merits 
of this plan, and of which the Duke himself was President, he 
thus ingeniously plays with the terms of the art in question, and 



RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 281 

fires off his wit, as it were, en ricochet^ making it bound lightly 
from sentence to sentence : — 

'' Yet the Noble Duke deserved the warmest panegyrics for the stiiking 
proofs he had given of his genius as an engineer ; which appeared even in 
the planning and construction of the paper in his hand ! The professional 
ability of the Master-general shone as conspicuously there, as it could 
upon our coasts. He had made it an argument of posts ; and conducted 
his reasoning upon principles of trigonometry, as well as logic. There 
were certain detached data, like advanced works, to keep the enemy at a 
distance from the main object in debate. Strong provisions covered the 
flanks of his assertions. His very queries were in casements. No impres- 
sion, therefore, was to be made on this fortress of sophistry by desultory 
observations ; and it was necessary to sit down before it, and assail it by 
regular approaches. It was fortunate, however, to observe, that notwith- 
standing all the skill employed by the noble and literary engineer, his 
mode of defence on paper was open to the same objection v/hich had been 
urged against his other fortifications ; that if his adversary got possession 
of one of his posts, it became strength against him, and the means of sub- 
duing the whole line of his argument.'' 

He also spoke at considerable length, upon the Plan brought 
forward by Mr. Pitt for the Redemption of the National Debt 
— that grand object of the calculator and the financier, and 
equally likely, it should seem, to be attained by the dreams of 
the one as by the experiments of the other. Mr. Pitt himself 
seemed to dread the suspicion of such a partnership, by the care 
with which he avoided any acknowledgment to Dr. Price, whom 
he had nevertheless personally consulted on the subject, and 
upon whose visions of compound interest this fabric of finance 
was founded. 

In opening the Plan of his new Sinking Fund to the House, 
Mr. Pitt, it is well known, pronounced it to be " a firm cclumn, 
upon which he was proud to flatter himself his name might be 
inscribed." Tycho Brahe would have said the same of his As- 
tronomy, and Des Cartes of his Physics ; — but these baseless 
columns have long passed away, and the Plan of paying debt 
with borrowed money well deserves to follow them. The delu- 
sion, indeed, of which this Fund was made the instrum..^t, dur 
ing the war with France, is now pretty generally acknowledged; 



282 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

and the only question is, whether Mr. Pitt was so much the dupe 
of his own juggle, as to persuade himself that thus playing with 
a debt, from one hand to the other, was paying it — or whether, 
aware of the inefficacy of his Plan for any other purpose than 
that of keeping up a blind confidence in the money-market, he 
yet gravely went on, as a sort of High Priest of Finance, profit- 
ing by a miracle in which he did not himself believe, and, in 
addition to the responsibility of the uses to which he applied 
the money, incurring that of the fiscal imposture by which he 
raised it. 

Though, from the prosperous state of the revenue at the time 
of the institution of this Fund, the absurdity was not yet com- 
mitted of borrowing money to maintain it, we may perceive by 
the following acute pleasantry of Mr. Sheridan, (who denied the 
existence of the alleged surplus of income,) that he already had 
a keen insight into the fallacy of that Plan of Redemption after- 
wards followed : — " At present," he said, " it was clear there 
was no surplus ; and the only means which suggested themselves 
to him were, a loan of a million for the especial purpose — for 
the Right Honorable gentleman might say, with the person in 
the comedy, ' If you wont lend me the money, how can I pa.y 
you V " 



RIGHT HON. RICHAED BBINSLEY SHERIDAN. 288 



CHAPTER X. 

CHARGES AGAINST MR. HASTINGS. — COMJirERCIAL TREATY 
WITH FRANCE. — DEBTS OF THE PRINCE OF WALES. 

The calm security into which Mr. Pitt's administration had 
settled, after the victory which the Tory alliance of King and 
people had gained for him, left but little to excite the activity of 
party spirit, or to call forth those grand explosions of eloquence, 
which a more electric state of the political world produces. 
The orators of Opposition might soon have been reduced, like 
Philoctetes wasting his arrows upon geese at Lemnos,** to ex- 
pend the armory of their wit upon the Grahams and Rolles of 
the Treasury bench. But a subject now presented itself — the 
Impeachment of Warren Hastings — which, by embodying the 
cause of a whole country in one. individual, and thus combining 
the extent and grandeur of a national question, with the direct 
aim and singleness of a personal attack, opened as wide a field 
for display as the most versatile talents could require, and to 
Mr. Sheridan, in particular, afforded one of those precious op- 
portunities, of which, if Fortune but rarely offers them to genius, 
it is genius alone that can fully and triumphantly avail itself. 

The history of the rise and progress of British power in India 
— of that strange and rapid vicissitude, by which the ancient 
Empire of the Moguls was transferred into the hands of a Com- 
pany of Merchants in Leadenhali Street— furnishes matter per- 
haps more than any other that could be mentioned, for those 
strong contrasts and startling associations, to which eloquence 
and wit often owe their most striking effects. The descendants 
of a Throne, once the loftiest in the world, reduced to stipulate 

* ^^ PirmigerO) non armigeroin corpore tela exercea?iiur.''^'—Accivs, ajo. Ciceron. lib. vii 
ep. 33. 



284 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

with the servants of traders for subsistence — the dethronement 
of Princes converted into a commercial transaction, and a ledger- 
account kept of the profits of Revolutions — the sanctity of Ze- 
nanas violated by search-\yarrants, and the chicaneries of Eng- 
lish Law transplanted, in their most mischievous luxuriance, into 
the holy and peaceful shades of the Bramins, — such events as 
these, in which the poetry and the prose of life, its pompous il- 
lusions and mean realities, are mingled up so sadly and fantasti- 
CLlly together, were of a nature, particularly when recent, to 
lay hold of the imagination as well as the feelings, and to fur- 
nish eloquence with those strong lights and shadows, of which 
her most animated pictures are composed. 

It is not wonderful, therefore, that the warm fancy of Mr. 
Burke should have been early and strongly excited by the scenes 
of which India was the theatre, or that they should have (to use 
his owm words) " constantly preyed upon his peace, and by night 
and day dwelt on his imagination." His imagination, indeed, — 
as will naturally happen, where this faculty is restrained by a 
sense of truth — was always most livelily called into play by 
events of which he had not himself been a witness ; and, accord- 
ingly, the sufferings of India and the horrors of revolutionary 
France were the two subjects upon which it has most unrestrain- 
edly indulged itself In the year 1780 he had been a member 
of the Select Committee, which was appointed by the House of 
Commons to take the affairs of India into consideration, and 
through some of whose luminous Reports we trace that power- 
ful intellect, which '• stamped an image of itself" on every sub- 
ject that it embraced. Though the reign of Clive had been suffi- 
ciently fertile in enormities, and the treachery practised towards 
Omicliund seemed hardly to admit of any parallel, yet the lof- 
tier and more prominent iniquities of Mr. Hastings's govern- 
ment were supposed to have thrown even these into shadow. 
Against him, therefore, — now rendered a still nobler object of 
attack by the haughty spirit v/irh which he delied his accusers, 
— the whole studies and energies of Mr. Burke's mind were 
directed. 



UlCflT HON. EICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAIST. 285 

It has already been remarked that to the impetuous zeal, with 
which Burke at this period rushed into Indian politics, and to 
that ascendancy over his party by which he so often compelled 
them to " swell wdth their tributary urns his flood," the ill-fated 
East India Bill of Mr. Fox in a considerable degree owed its 
origin. In truth, the disposition and talents of this extraordinary 
man made him at least as dangerous as useful to any party with 
which he connected himself. Liable as he w^as to be hurried 
into unsafe extremes, impatient of contradiction, and with a sort 
of feudal turn of mind, which exacted the unconditional service 
of his followers, it required, even at that time, but little pene- 
.tration to foresee the violent schism that ensued some years 
after, or to pronounce that, whenever he should be unable to 
command his party, he would desert it. 

The materials which he had been collecting on the subject of 
India, and the indignation with which these details of delinquen- 
cy had filled him, at length burst forth (like that mighty cloud, 
described by himself as " pouring its whole contents over the 
plains of the Carnatic") in his wonderful speech on the Nabob 
of Ai'cot's debts* — a speech, whose only rivals perhaps in all 
the records of oratory, are to be found among three or four 
others of his ow^n, which, like those poems of Petrarch called 
Sorelle from their kindred excellence, may be regarded as sisters 
in beauty, and equalled only by each other. 

Though the charges against Mr. Hastings had long been 
threatened, it w^as not till the present year that Mr. Burke 
brought them formally forward. He had been, indeed, defied 
to this issue by the friends of the Governor-General, whose 
reliance, how^ever, upon the sympathy and support of the minis- 
try (accorded, as a matter of course, to most State delinquents) 

* Isocrates, in his Encomium upon Helen, dwells much on the advantage to an oralcfi of 
speaking upon subjects from which Lut little eloquence is expected — ItSPl TOJV (pauXwv 
XOH Ta'TTSlvWV. There is little doubt, indeed, that surprise m.\xsX have considerable share 
in the pleasure, which we derive from eloquence on such unpromising topics as have in 
spired three of the most masterly speec^ies that can be selected from modern oratory — 
that of Burke on the Nabob of Arcot's debts— of Grattan on Tithes, and of Mr. Fox on the 
Westminster Scrutiny. 



286 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

was, in this instance, contrary to all calculation, disappointed. 
Mr. Pitt, at the commencement of the proceedings, had shown 
strong indications of an intention to take the cause of the Gover- 
nor-General under his protection. Mr. Dundas, too, had exhi- 
bited one of those convenient changes of opinion, by which such 
statesmen can accommodate themselves to the passing hue of the 
Treasury-bench, as naturally as the Eastern insect does to the 
color of the leaf on which it feeds. Though one of the earliest 
and most active denouncers of Indian mis-government, and even 
the mover of those strong Resolutions in 1782* on which some 
of the chief charges of the present prosecution were founded, 
he now, throughout the whole of the opening scenes of the Im- 
peachment, did not scruple to stand forth as the warm eulogist 
of Mr. Hastings, and to endeavor by a display of the successes 
of his administration to dazzle away attention from its violence 
and injustice. 

This tone, however, did not long continue : — in the midst of 
the anticipated triumph of Mr Hastings, the Minister suddenly 
" changed his hand, and checked his pride." On the occasion of 
the Benares Charge, brought forward in the House of Commons 
by Mr. Fox, a majority was, for the first time, thrown into the 
scale of the accusation ; and the abuse that was in consequence 
showered upon Mr. Pitt and Mr. Dundas, through every channel 
of the press, by the friends of Mr. Hastings, showed how wholly 
unexpected, as well as mortifying, was the desertion. 

As but little credit was allowed to conviction in this change, 
it being difficult to believe that a Minister should come to the 
discussion of such a question, so lightly ballasted with opinions 
of his own as to be thrown from his equilibrium by the first 
wave of argument he encountered, — various statements and 
conjectures were, at the time, brought forward to account for it. 
Jealousy of the great and increasin^X influence of Mr. Hastings at 



* In introducing the Resolutions he said, that " he was urged to take this step by an ac- 
count, which had lately arrived from India, of an act of the most flagrant violence and 
oppression and of the grossest breach of faith, committed by Mr. H.t«ting8 against Cheyt 
Sing, the Raja of Benares." 



illGHT HON". RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 287 

court was. iii general, the motive assigned for the conduct of the 
Minister. It was even believed that a wish expressed by the 
King, to have his new favorite appointed President of the Board 
of Control, was what decided Mr. Pitt to extinguish, by co- 
operating with the Opposition, every chance of a rivalry, which 
might prove troublesome, if not dangerous, to his power. 
There is no doubt that the arraigned ruler of India was honored 
at this period with the distinguished notice of the Court — partly, 
perhaps, from admiration of his proficiency in that mode of 
governing, to which all Courts are, more or less, instinctively 
inclined, and partly from a strong distaste to those who were 
his accusers, which would have been sufficient to recommend any 
person or measure to which they were opposed. 

But whether Mr. Pitt, in the part which he now took, was 
actuated merely by personal motives, or (as his eulogists re- 
present) by a strong sense of impartiality and justice, he must 
at all events have considered the whole proceeding, at this mo- 
ment, as a most seasonable diversion of the attacks of the 
Opposition, from his own person and government to an object so 
little connected with either. The many restless and powerful 
spirits now opposed to him would soon have found, or made, 
some vent for their energies, more likely to endanger the stabi- 
lity of his power; — and, as an expedient for drawing off some 
of that perilous lightning, which flashed around him from the 
lips of a Burke, a Fox, and a Sheridan, the prosecution of a great 
criminal like Mr. Hastings furnished as efficient a conductor as 
could be desired. 

Still, however, notwithstanding the accession of the Minister, 
and the im^pulse given by the majorities which he commanded, 
the projected impeachment was but tardy and feeble in its move- 
ments, and neither the House nor the public went cordially along 
with it. Great talents, united to great power — even when, as in 
the instance of Mr. Hastings, abused — is a combination before 
which men are inclined to bow implicitly. The iniquities, too, 
of Indian rulers were of that gigantic kind, which seemed to 
')utgrow censure, and even, in some degree, challenge admiration 



288 Memoirs of the life of the 

In addition to all this, Mr. Hastings had been successful ; and 
succbss but too often throws a charm round injustice, like the 
dazzle of the necromancer's shield in Ariosto, before which every 
one falls 

" Con gli occhi ahbacinati, e senza mente,^^ 

The feelings, therefore, of the public were, at the outset of the 
prosecution, rather for than against the supposed delinquent. Nor 
was this tendency counteracted by auy very partial leaning to- 
wards his accusers. Mr. Fox had hardly yet recovered his 
defeat on the India Bill, or — what had been still more fatal to 
him — his victory in the Coalition. Mr. Burke, in spite of his 
great talents and zeal, w^as by no means popular. There was a 
tone of dictatorship in his public demeanor against which men 
naturally rebelled ; and the impetuosity and passion with which 
he flung himself into every favorite subject, showed a want of 
self-government but little calculated to inspire respect. Even 
his eloquence, various and splendid as it was, failed in general to 
win or command the attention of his hearers, and, in this great 
essential of public speaking, must be considered inferior to that 
ordinary, but practical, kind of oratory,* which reaps its harvest 
at the moment of delivery, and is afterwards remembered less 
for itself than its effects. There was a something — v/hich those 
who have but read him can with difficulty conceive — that marred 
the impression of his most sublime and glowing displays. In 
vain did his genius put forth its superb plumage, glittering all 
over with the hundred eyes of fancy — the gait of the bird was 
heavy and awkward, and its voice seemed rather to scare than 
attract. Accordingly, many of those masterly discourses, which, 
in their present form, may proudly challenge comparison with 
all the written eloquence upon record, were, at the time when 
they were pronounced, either coldly listened to, or only wel- 
comed as a signal and excuse for not listening at all. To such a 

* " Whoever, upon comparison, is deemed by a common audience the greatest orator 
ought most certainly to be pronounced such by men of science and erudition." — Hume^ 
Essay 13. 



RIGHT HON, RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 289 

length was this iiidifFerence carried, that, on the evening when he 
delivered his great Speech on the Nabob of Arcot's debts, so 
faint was the impression it produced upon the House, that Mr. 
Pitt and Lord Grenville, as I have heard, not only consulted with 
each other as to whether it was necessary they should take the 
trouble of answermg it, but decided in the negative. Yet doubt- 
less, at the present moment, if Lord Grenville — master as he is 
of all the knowledge that belongs to a statesman and a scholar — 
were asked to point out from the stores of his reading the few 
models of oratorical composition, to the perusal of which he 
could most frequently, and with unwearied admiration, return, 
this slighted and unanswered speech would be among the 
number. 

From all these combining circumstances it arose that the pro- 
secution of Mr. Hastings, even after the accession of the Minister, 
excited but a slight and wavering interest ; and, without some 
extraordinary appeal to the sympathies of the House and the 
country — some startling touch to the chord of public feeling — 
it was questionable whether the inquiry would not end as abor- 
tively as all the other Indian inquests^ that had preceded it. 

In this state of the proceeding, Mr. Sheridan brought forward, 
on the 7th of February, in the House of Commons, the charge 
relative to the Begum Princesses of Oude, and delivered that 
celebrated Speech, whose effect upon its hearers has no parallel 
in the annals of ancient or modern eloquence.f When we re- 

* Namely, the fruitless prosecution of Lord Clive by General Burgoyne, the trifling ver- 
dict upon the persons who had imprisoned Lord Pigot, and the Bill of Pains and Penalties 
against Sir Thomas Rumbold, finally withdrawTi. 

f Mr. Burke declared it to be " the most astonishmg effort of eloquence, argument, and 
wit united, of which there was any record or tradition." Mr. Fox said, " All that he had 
ever heard, all that he had ever read, when compared with it, dwindled into nothing, and 
vanished like vapor before the sun ;" — and Mr. Pitt acknowledged "that it surpassed all 
the eloquence of ancient and modern times, and possessed every thing that genius or art 
could furnish, to agitate and control the human mind." 

There were several other tributes, of a less distinguished kind, of which I find the fol- 
lov/ing account in the Annual Register : — 

"Sir William Dolben immediately mov^ed an adjournment of the debate, confessing, that, 
in the state of mind in which Mr. Sheridan's speech had left him, it was imj)OGi5ible fc 
hin \o give a determinate opmion. Mr. Stanhope seconded the motion. When l.e had en- 
ered the House, he was not ashamed to acknowledge, that his opinion inclined to the side 

VOL. I. 13 



200 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

collect the men by whom the House of Commons was at that 
day adorned, and the conflict of high passions and interestr^ in 
which they had been so lately engaged ; — when we see them all, 
of all parties, brought (as Mr. Pitt expressed it) " under the 
wand of the enchanter," and only vying with each other in their 
description of the fascination by which they were bound ; — v/hen 
we call to mind, too, that he, whom the first statesmen of the 
age thus lauded, had but lately descended among them from a 
more aerial region of intellect, bringing trophies falsely supposed 
to be incompatible with political prowess ; — it is impossi])le to 
imagine a moment of more entire and intoxicating triumph. 
The only alloy that could mingle with such complete success 
must be the fear that it was too perfect ever to come again , — 
that his fame had then reached the meridian point, and from that 
consummate moment must date its decline. 

Of this remarkable Speech there exists no Report ; — for it 
would be absurd to dignify with that appellation the meagre and 
lifeless sketch, the 

Tenuem sine viribus uynhram 
In faciem ^necB^ 

which is given in the Annual Registers and Parliamentary De- 
bates. Its fame, therefore, remains like an empty shrine — a 
cenotaph stiii crowned and honored, though the inmate is want- 
ing. Mr. Sheridan was frequently urged to furnish a Report 
himself, and from his habit of preparing and writing out his 
speeches, there is little doubt that he could have accomplished 
such a task without much difficulty. But, whether from indo- 
lence or design, he contented himself with leaving to imagination, 
which, in most cases, he knew, transcends reality, the task of 
justifying his eulogists, and perpetuating the tradition of their 

of Mr. Hastings. But such had been the wonderful efficacy of Mr. Sheridan's convincing 
(leiail of facts, and urresistible eloquence, that he could not but say thai his sentimenta 
^Vcre materially changed. Nothing, indeed, but information almost equal to a miracle, 
C3ti'i<J determine liim not to vote for the Charge ; but he had just felt the influence of such 
a mifacle, and he could not but ardently desire to avoid an immediate decision. Mr. Ma* 
thew Montague confessed, that he had felt a similar revolution of sentiment. 



RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 291 

praise. Nor, in doing thus, did he act perhaps unwisely for his 
fame. We may now indulge in dreams of the eloquence that 
could produce such effects,* as we do of the music of the an- 
cients and the miraculous powers attributed to it, with as little 
risk of having our fancies chilled by the perusal of the one, as 
there is of our faith being disenchanted by hearing a single strain 
of the other. 

After saying thus much, it may seem a sort of wilful profana- 
tion, to turn to the spiritless abstract of this speech, which is ta 
be found m all the professed reports of Parliamentary oratory, 
and which stands, like one of those half-clothed mummies in the 
Sicilian vaults, with, here and there, a fragment of rhetorical 
drapery, to give an appearance of life to its marrowless frame. 
There is, however, one passage so strongly marked with the 
characteristics of Mr. Sheridan's talent — of his vigorous use of 
the edge of the blade, wnth his too frequent display of the glitter 
of the point — that it may be looked upon as a pretty faithful 
representation of what he spoke, and claim a place among the 
authentic specimens of his oratory. Adverting to some of those 
admirers of Mr. Hastings, who were not so implicit in their 
partiality as to give unqualified applause to his crimes, but found 
an excuse for their atrocity in the greatness of his mind, he thus 
proceeds : — 

" To estimate the solidity of such a defence, it would be sufficient merely 
to consider in what consisted this prepossing distinction, this captivating 
characteristic of greatness of mind. Is it not solely to be traced in great 
actions directed to great ends? In them, and them alone, we are to search 
for true estimable magnanimity. To them only can we justly affix the 
splendid title and honors of real greatness. There was indeed another 
species of greatness, which displayed itself in boldly conceiving a bad mea- 

• The following anecdote is g-iven as a proof of the irresistil)le power of this speech in 
a note upon Mr. Bisset's History of the Reign of George m. :— 

"The late Mr. Logan, well knowm for his literary efforts, and author of a most masterly 
defence of ^tr. Hastings, went that day to the House of Commons, prepossessed for the 
accused and against his accuser. At the expiration of the first hour he said to a friend, 
'Ail this is declamatory assertion without proof :' — when the second was finished, 'This is 
a most wonderful oration :' — at the close of the third, 'Mr. Hastings has acted very un- 
justifiably :' — the fourth, ' ilr. Hastings is a most atrocious criminal ;'— and, at last, ' Of 
all monsters of iniquity the most enormous is Warren Hastings I' " 



292 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

sure, and undauntedly pursuing it to its accomplishment. But had Mr. 
Hastings the merit of exhibiting either of these descriptions of greatness, 
— even of the latter ? He saw nothing great — nothing magnanimous — no- 
thing open — nothing direct in his measures, or in his mind. On the con- 
trary, he had too often pursued the worst objects by the worst means. His 
course was an eternal deviation from rectitude. He either tyrannized or de- 
ceived ; and was by turns a Dionysius and a Scapin.* As well might the 
writhing obliquity of the serpent be compared to the swift directness of the 
arrow, as the duplicity of Mr. Hastings's ambition to the simple steadiness 
of genuine magnanimity. In his mind all was shuSing, ambiguous, dark, 
' insidious, and little : nothing simple, nothing unmixed : all affected plain- 
ness, and actual dissimulation ; a heterogeneous mass of contradictory qua- 
lities ; with nothing great but his crimes ; and even those contrasted by the 
littleness of his motives, which at once denoted both his baseness and his 
meanness, and marked him for a traitor and a trickster. Nay, in his style 
and writing there was the same mixture of vicious coutrarieties ; — the most 
grovelling ideas were conveyed in the most inflated language, giving mock 
consequence to low cavils, and uttering quibbles in heroics ; so that his 
compositions disgusted the mind's taste, as much as his actions excited the 
soul's abhorrence. Indeed this mixture of character seemed, by some un- 
accountable but inherent quality, to be appropriated, though in inferior de- 
grees, to everything that concerned his employers. H.e remembered to 
have heard an honorable and learned gentleman (Mr. Dundas) remark, that 
there was something in the first frame and constitution of the Company, 
which extended the sordid principles of their origin over all their succes- 
sive operations ; connecting with their civil policy, and even with their 
boldest achievements, the meanness of a pedlar and the profligacy of pi- 
rates. Alike in the political and the military line could be observed auc- 
tioneering ambassadors and tradirig generals ; — and thus we saw a revolution 
brought about by affidavits ; an army employed in executing an arrest ; a 
town besieged on a note of hand; a prince dethroned for the balance of 
an account. Thus it was they exhibited a government, which united the 
mock majesty of a bloody sceptre, and the little traffic of a merchant's 
ccunting-house, wielding a truncheon with one hand, and picking a pocket 
with the other.^^ 

The effect of this speech, added to the line taken by the Min- 
ister, turned the balance against Hastings, and decided the Im- 
peachment. 

Congratulations on his success poured in upon Mr. Sheridan, 

• The spirit of this observation has been well condensed in the compound name given 
by the Abbe de Pradl to Napoleon — " Jupiter Scapin." 



EIGHT H0:N'. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 293 

as may be supposed, fi^om all quarters ; and the letters that he 
received from his own family on the occasion were preserved by 
him carefully and fondly through life. The following extract 
from one written by Charles Sheridan is highly honorable to both 
brothers :— 

*' Dublin Castle, \^th February, 1787. 
"My Dear Dick, 
" Could I for a moment forget you were my brother, I should, 
merely as an Irishm.an, think myself bound to thank you, for 
the high credit you have done your country. You may be as- 
sured, therefore, that the sense of national pride, w^hich I in com- 
mon with all your countrymen on this side of the water must 
feel on this splendid occasion, acquires no small increase of per- 
sonal satisfaction, when I reflect to whom Ireland is indebted, 
for a display of ability so unequalled, that the honor derived 
from it seems too extensive to be concentred in an individual, 
but ought to give, and I am persuaded will give, a new respect 
f )r the name of Irishman. I have heard and read the accounts 
of your speech, and of the astonishing impression it made, w^ith 
tears of exultation — but what will flatter you more — I can so- 
lemnly declare it to be a fact, that I have, since the news reached 
us, seen ^ood honest Irish pride, national pride I mean, bring 
tears into the eyes of many persons, on this occasion, who never 
saw you. I need not, after what I have stated, assure you, that 
it is with the most heartfelt satisfiiction that I offer you my 
warmest congratulations. * * * *" 

The following is from his eldest sister, Mrs. Joseph Le- 
fanu : — 

" My Dear Brother, l^th February^ 1787. 

" The day before yesterday I received the account of your 
glorious speech. Mr. Crauford was so good as to write a more 
paiticular and satisfactory one to Mr. Lefanu than we could have 
received from the papers. I have watched the first interval of 
ease from a cruel and almost incessant headache to give vent to 



294 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

my feelings, and tell you how much I rejoice in your success. 
May it be entire ! May the God who fashioned you, and gave 
you powers to sway the hearts of men and control their way- 
ward wills, be equally favorable to you in all your undertakhigs, 
and make your reward here and hereafter ! Amen, from the 
bottom of my soul ! My affection for you has been ever ' pass- 
ing the love of women.' Adverse circumstances have deprived 
me of the pleasure of your society, but have had no effect ii: 
weakening my regard for you. I know your heart too well to 
suppose that regard is indifferent to you, and soothingly sweet 
to me is the idea that in some pause of thought from the impor- 
tant matters that occupy your mind, your earliest friend is some- 
times recollected by you. 

" I know you are much above the little vanity that seeks its 
gratification in the piaises of the miillion, but you must be pleased 
with the applause of the discerning, — with the tribute I may say 
11 affection paid to the goodness of your heart. People love 
your character as much as they admire your talents. My father 
i.s, in a degree that I did not expect, gratified with the general at- 
tention you have excited here : he seems truly pleased that men 
should say, ' There goes the father of Gaul.' If your fame has 
shed a ray of brightness over all so distinguished as to be con- 
nected with you, I am sure I may say it has infused a ray of 
gladness into my heart, deprest as it has been with ill health and 
long confinement. * ^" 

There is also another letter from this lady, of the same date, 
to Mrs. Sheridan, which begins thus enthusiastically : — 

"My Dear Sheri. 
" Nothing but death could keep me silent on such an occasion 
as this. I wish you joy — I am sure you feel it : 'oh moments 
worth whole ages past, and all that are to come.' You may 
laugh at my enthusiasm if you please — I glory in it. * *" 

In the month of April following, Mr. Sheridan opened the 
Seventh Charge, which accused Hastings of corruption, in receiv- 



RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 295 

liig bribes and presents. The orator was here again lucky in 
having a branch of the case allotted to him, which, though bv 
no means so susceptible of the ornam_ents of eloquence as the 
former, had the advantage of being equally borne out by testi- 
mony, and formed one of the most decided features of the cause. 
The avidity, indeed, with which Hastings exacted presents, and 
then concealed them as long as there was a chance of his being 
able to appropriate them to himself, gave a mean and ordinary 
air to iniquities, whose magnitude would otherwise have rendered 
them imposing, if not grand. 

The circumstances, under which the present from Cheyte Sing 
was extorted shall be related when I come to speak of the great 
Speech in Westminster Hall. The other strong cases of corrup- 
tion, on which Mr. Sheridan now dwelt, were the sums given by 
the Munny Begum (in return for her appointment to a trust for 
which, it appears, she was unfit), both to Hastings himself and 
his useful agent, Middleton. This charge, as far as regards the 
latter, was never denied — and the suspicious lengths to w^hich the 
Governor-general went, in not only refusing all inquiry into his 
own share of the transaction, but having his accuser, Nuncomar, 
silenced by an unjust sentence of death, render his acquittal on 
this charge such a stretch of charity, as nothing but a total igno 
ranee of the evidence and all its bearings can justify. 

The following passage, with w^hich Sheridan wound up his 
Speech on this occasion, is as strong an example as can be 
adduced of that worst sort of florid style, which prolongs meta- 
phor into allegory, and, instead of giving in a single sentence the 
essence of many flowers, spreads the flowers themselves, in 
crude heaps, over a whole paragraph : — 

'^ In conclusion (he observed), that, although within this rank, but infi- 
nitely too fruitful wilderness of iniquities — within this dismal and unhal- 
lowed labyrinth — it was most natural to cast an eye of indignation and con- 
cern over the wide and towering forest of enormities -all rising in the 
dusky magnificence of guilt ; and to fix the dreadfully excited attention 
upon the huge trunks of revenge, rapine, tyranny, and oppression ; yet it 
became not less necessary to trace out the poisonous weeds, the baleful 
brushwood, and all tlie little, creeping, deadly plants, which were, in q^uan 



296 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

t'ltj and extent, if possible, more noxious. The whole range of this far- 
spreading calamity was sown in the hot-bed of corruption ; and had risen, 
by rapid and mature growth, into every species of illegal and atrocious 
violence." 

At the commencement of the proceedings against Hastings, 
an occurrence, immediately connected with them, had brought 
Sheridan and his early friend Halhed together, under circum- 
stances as different as well can be imagined from those under 
which they had parted as boys. The distance, indeed, that had 
separated them in the interval was hardly greater than the diver- 
gence that had taken place in their pursuits ; for, while Sheridan 
had been converted into a senator and statesman, the lively Hal- 
hed had become an East Indian Judge, and a learned commen- 
tator on the Gentoo Laws. Upon the subject, too, on which they 
now met, their views and interests w^ere wholly opposite,-— 
Sheridan being the accuser of Hastings, and Halhed his friend. 
The following are the public circumstances that led to their inter- 
view. 

In one of the earliest debates on the Charges against the 
Governor-general, Major Scott having asserted that, when Mr. 
Fox was preparing his India Bill, overtures of accommodation 
had been made, by his authority, to Mr. Hastings, added, that he 
(Major Scott) " entertained no doubt that, had Mr. Hastings 
then come home, he would have heard nothing of all this calum- 
ny, and all these serious accusations." Mr. Fox, whom this 
charge evidently took by surprise, replied that he was wholly 
ignorant of any such overtures, and that " whoever made, or 
even hinted at such an offer, as coming from him, did it without 
the smallest shadow of authority." By an explanation, a few 
days after, from Mr. Sheridan, it appeared that he was the person 
who had taken the step alluded to by Major Scott." His inter- 
ference, however, he said, was solely founded upon an opinion 
which he had himself formed with respect to the India Bill,— 
namely, that it would be wiser, on grounds of expediency, not to 
make it retrospective in any of its clauses. In consequence of 
tliis opinion, he h^i ce^tmnly cpmn^issioned a friend to iuquiTQ 



RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 297 

of Major Scott, whether, if Mr. Hastings were recalled, he would 
come home ; — but " that there had been the most distant idea 
of bartering with Mr. Hastings for his support of the Indian Bill, 
he utterly denied." In conclusion, he referred, for the truth of 
what he had now stated, to Major Scott, who instantly rising, 
acknowledged that, from inquiries which he had since made of 
the gentleman deputed to him by Mr. Sheridan on the occasion, 
he was ready to bear testimony to the fairness of the statement 
just submitted to the House, and to admit his own mistake in 
the interpretation which he had put on the transaction. 

It was in relation to this misunderstanding that the interview 
took place in the year 1786 between Sheridan and Halhed — the 
other persons present being Major Scott and Doctor Parr, from 
whom I heard the circumstance. The feelings of this venerable 
scholar towards " iste Scotus " (as he calls Major Scott in his 
Preface to Bellendenus) were not, it is well known, of the most 
favorable kind ; and he took the opportunity of this interview 
to tell that gentleman fully what he thought of him : — " for ten 
minutes," said the Doctor, in describing his aggression, " I poured 
out upon him hot, scalding abuse — 'twas lava, Sir !" 

Among the other questions that occupied the attention of Mr. 
Sheridan during this session, the most important were the Com- 
mercial Treaty with France, and the Debts of the Prince of 
Wales. 

The same erroneous views by which the opposition to the Irish 
Commercial Propositions was directed, still continued to actuate 
Mr. Fox and his friends in their pertinacious resistance to the 
Treaty with France ; — a measure which reflects high honor upon 
the memory of Mr. Pitt, as one of the first efforts of a sound 
and liberal policy to break through that system of restriction 
and interference, which had so long embarrassed the flow of in- 
ternational commerce. 

The wisdom of leaving trade to And its own way into those chan- 
nels which the reciprocity of wants established among mankind 
opens to it, is one of those obvious truths that have lain long on 
the highways of knowledge, before practical statesmen would cop- 

VOL. I, 1?/^ 



298 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

descend to pick them up. It has been shown, indeed, that the. 
sound principles of commerce which have at last forced their way 
from the pages of thinking men into the councils of legislators, 
were more than a hundred years since promulgated by Sir Dud- 
ley North ;* — and in the Querist of Bishop Berkeley may be 
found the outlines of all that the best friends not only of free 
trade but of free religion would recommend to the rulers of 
Ireland at the present day. Thus frequently does Truth, before 
the drowsy world is prepared for her, like 

" The nice Morn on the Indian steep, 
From her cabin'd loophole peep.^^ 

Though Mr. Sheridan spoke frequently in the course of the 
discussions, he does not appear to have, at any time, encountered 
the main body of the question, but to have confined himself 
chiefly to a consideration of the effects which the treaty would 
have upon the interests of Ireland ; — a point which he urged with 
so much earnestness, as to draw down upon him from one of the 
speakers the taunting designation of " Self-appointed Represen- 
tative of Ireland." 

Mr. Fox was the most active antagonist of the Treaty ; and 
his speeches on the subject may be counted among those feats of 
prowess, with which the chivalry of Genius sometimes adorns the 
cause of Error. In founding, as he did, his chief argument 
against commercial intercourse upon the " natural enm.ity " be- 
tween the two countries, he might have referred, it is true, to 
high Whig authority : — " The late Lord Oxford told me," says 
Lord Bolingbroke, " that my Lord Somers being pressed, I know 
not on w^hat occasion or by whom, on the unnecessary and ruinous 
continuation of the war, instead of giving reasons to show the 
necessity of it, contented himself to reply that he had been bred 
up in a hatred to France." — But no authority, however high, can 
promote a prejudice into a reason, or conciliate any respect for 
this sort of vague, traditional hostility, which is often obliged to 
seek its own justification in the very mischiefs which itself pro- 

* Mcculloch's Lectures on Political Economy 



EIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 299 

duces. If Mr. Fox ever happened to peruse the praises, which 
his Antigallican sentiments on this occasion procured for him, 
from the tedious biographer of his rival, Mr. Gifford, he would 
have suspected, like Phocion, that he must have spoken some- 
thing unworthy of himself, to have draw^n down upon his head a 
panegyric from such a quarter. 

Another of Mr. Fox's arguments against entering into com- 
mercial relations with France, was the danger lest English mer- 
chants, by inv^esting their capital in foreign speculations, should 
become so entangled with the interests of another country as to 
render them less jealous than they ought to be of the honor of 
their own, and less ready to rise in its defence, when wronged or 
insulted. But, assuredly, a want of pugnacity is not the evil to 
be dreaded among nations — still less between two, whom the 
orator had just represented as inspired by a " natural enmity " 
against each other. He ought rather, upon this assumption, to 
have welcomed the prospect of a connection, which, by trans- 
fusing and blending their commercial interests, and giving each 
a stake in the prosperity of the other, would not only soften away 
the animal antipathy attributed to them, but, by enlisting selfish- 
ness on the side of peace and amity, afford the best guarantee 
against wanton warfare, that the wisdom of statesmen or philos- 
ophers has yet devised. 

Mr. Burke, in affecting to consider the question in an enlarged 
point of view, fell equally short of its real dimensions ; and even 
descended to the weakness of ridiculing such commercial ar- 
rangements, as unworthy altogether of the contemplation of the 
higher order of statesmen. " The Right Honorable gentleman," 
he said, " had talked of the treaty as if it were the affair of two 
little counting-houses, and not of two great countries. He 
seemed to consider it as a contention between the sign of the 
Fleur-de-lis, and the sign of the Red Lion, which house should 
obtain the best custom. Such paltry considerations were below 
his notice." 

In such terms could "Burke, from temper or wayw^ardness of 
judgment, attempt to depreciate a speech which may be said to 



800 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

have contained the first luminous statement of the principles of 
commerce, with the most judicious views of their application to de- 
tails, that had ever, at that period, been presented to the House. 

The wise and enlightened opinions of Mr. Pitt, both with re- 
spect to trade, and another very different subject of legislation, 
Religion, would have been far more worthy of the imitation of 
some of his self-styled followers, than those errors which they are 
so glad to shelter under the sanction of his name. For encroach- 
ments upon the property and liberty of the subject, for financial 
waste and unconstitutional severity, they have the precedent of 
their great master ever ready on their lips. But, in all that 
would require wisdom and liberality in his copyists — in the re- 
pugnance he felt to restrictions and exclusions, affecting either 
the worldly commerce of man with man, or the spiritual inter- 
course of man with his God, — in all this, like the Indian that 
quarrels with his idol, these pretended followers not only dissent 
from their prototype themselves, but violently denounce, as mis- 
chievous, his opinions when adopted by others. 

In attributing to party feelings the wrong views entertained by 
the Opposition on this question, we should but defend their 
sagacity at the expense of their candor ; and the cordiality, in- 
deed, with which they came forward this year to praise the spirited 
part taken by the Minister in the affairs of Holland — even al- 
lowing that it would be difficult for Whigs not to concur in a 
measure so national — sufficiently acquits them of any such per- 
verse spirit of party, as would, for the mere sake of opposition, 
go wrong because the Minister was right. To the sincerity of 
one of their objections to the Treaty — namely, that it was a de- 
sign, on the part of France, to detach England, by the tempta- 
tion of a mercantile advantage, from her ancient alliance with 
Holland and her other continental connections — Mr. Burke bore 
testimony, as far as himself was concerned, by repeating the 
same opinions, after an interval of ten years, in his testamentary 
work, the " Letters on a Regicide Peace." 

The other important question v/hich I kave mentioned as en- 
gaging, during the session of 1787, the attention of Mr. Sherii 



RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRl^^SLEY SHERIDAN. 301 

dan, was the application to Parliament for the payment of the 
Prince of Wales's debts. The embarrassments of the Heir 
Apparent were but a natural consequence of his situation ; and 
a little more graciousness and promptitude on the part of the 
King, in interposing to relieve His Eoyal Highness from the 
difficulties under which he labored, would have afforded a chance 
of detaching him from his new political associates, of which, 
however the affection of the Royal parent may have slumbered, 
it is strange that his sagacity did not hasten to avail itself A 
contrary system, however, was adopted. The haughty indiffer- 
ence both of the monarch and his minister threw the Prince en- 
tirely on the sympathy of the Opposition. Mr. Pitt identified 
himself with the obstinacy of the father, while Mr. Fox and the 
Opposition committed themselves with the irregularities of the 
son • and the proceedings of both parties were such as might 
have been expected from their respective connections — the Royal 
mark was but too visible upon each. 

. One evil consequence, that was on the point of resulting from 
the embarrassed situation in which the Prince now found himself, 
was his acceptance of a loan which the Duke of Orleans had 
proffered him, and which would have had the perilous tendency 
of placing the future Sovereign of England in a state of depen- 
dence, as creditor, on a Prince of France. That the negotiations 
in this extraordinary transaction had proceeded farther than is 
generally supposed, will appear from the following letters of the 
Duke of Portland to Sheridan : — 

"Dear Sheridan, Sunday noon^ 13 Dec, 

" Since I saw you I have received a confirmation of the intel- 
ligence which was the subject of our conversation. The partic- 
ulars varied ui no respect from those I related to you — except 
in the addition of a pension, which is to take place immediately 
on the event which entitles the creditors to payment, and is to 

be granted for life to a nominee of the D. of O s. The loan 

was mentioned in a mixed company by two of the Frenchwomen 
and a Frenchman (none of whose names I know) in Calonne's 



302 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

presence, who iiiterrupted them, by asking, hov/ they came to 
know any thing of the matter, then set them right in two or 
three particulars which they had misstated, and afterwards begged 
them, for God's sake, not to talk of it, because it might be their 
complete ruin. 

" I am gomg to Bulstrode — but will return at a moment's no- 
tice, if I can be of the least use in getting rid of this odious en- 
g:igement, or preventing its being entered into, if it should not 
be yet completed. 

" Yours ever, 

a p 55 

'• Dear Sheridan, 
'- 1 think myself much obliged to you for what you have done. 
I hope I am not too sanguine in looking to a good conclusion of 
this bad business. I will certainly be in town by two o'clock. 

" Yours ever, 

up 55 

^' Bulstrode f Mcyaday, 14. Dec* 

Mr. Sheridan, who was now high in the confidence of the 
Prince, had twice, in the course of the year 1786, taken occasion 
to allude publicly to the embarrassments of His Royal Highness. 
Indeed, the decisive m.easure which this Illustrious Person him- 
self had adopted, in reducing his establishment and devoting a 
part of his income to the discharge of his debts, sufficiently pro- 
claimed the true state of affairs to the public. Still, however, 
the strange policy w^as persevered in, of adding the discontent 
of the Heir- Apparent to the other weapons in the hands of the 
Opposition ; — and, as might be expected, they were not tardy 
in turning it to account. In the spring of 1787, the embarrassed 
state of His Royal Highness's aftairs was brought formally under 
the notice of parliament by Alderman Newenham. 

During one of the discussions to which the subject gave rise, 
Mr. Rolle, the member for Devonshire, a strong adherent of 
the ministry, in deprecating the question about to be agitated, 



RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 303 

affirmed that " it went immediately to affect our Constitution 
in Church and State." In these solemn words it was well under- 
stood, that he alluded to a report at that time generally believed, 
and, indeed, acted upon by many in the etiquette of private life, 
that a marriage had been solemnized between the Prince of 
Wales and Mrs. Fitzherbert — a lady of the Eoman Catholic 
persuasion, who, with more danger to her own peace than to that 
of either Church or State, had for some time been the distin- 
guished object of His Royal Highness's affection. 

Even had an alliance of this description taken place, the pro- 
visions of the Eoyal Marriage Act would have nullified it into a 
mere ceremony, inefficient, as it was supposed, for any other 
purpose than that of satisfying the scruples of one of the parties. 
But that dread of Popery, which in England starts at its own 
shadow, took alarm at the consequences of an intercourse so 
heterodox ; and it became necessary, in the opinion of the Prince 
and his friends, to put an end to the apprehensions that were 
abroad on the subject. 

Nor can it be denied that, in the minds of those who believed 
that the marriage had been actually solemnized,* there were, in 
one point of view, very sufficient grounds of alarm. By the 
Statute of William and Mary, commonly called the Bill of 
Rights, it is enacted, among other causes of exclusion from the 
throne, that " every person w^ho shall marry a Papist shall be 
excluded and for ever be incapable to inherit the crown of this 
realm." — In such cases (adds this truly revolutionary Act) " the 
people of these realms shall be and are hereby absolved of their 
allegiance." Under this Act, which was confirmed by the Act 
of Settlement, it is evident that the Heir- Apparent would, by 
such a marriage as was now attributed to him, have forfeited his 
right of succession to the throne. From so serious a penalty, 
however, it was generally supposed, he would have been ex- 
empted by the operation of the Royal Marriage Act (12 George 
III.), which rendered null and void any marriage contracted by 

* Home Tooke, in his insidious pamphlet on the subject, presumed so far on his belief 
as to call Mrs. Fitzherbert '^ Her Royal Highness.'' 



304: MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF fUE 

any descendant of George II. without the previous consent of 
the King, or a twelve months' notice given to the Privy Council. 

That this Act would have nullified the alleged marriage of the 
Prince of Wales there is, of course, no doubt ; — but that it 
would also have exempted him from the forfeiture incurred by 
marriage with a Papist, is a point which, in the minds of many, 
still remains a question. There are, it is well known, analogous 
cases in Law, where the nullity of an illegal transaction does not 
do away the penalty attached to it."^ To persons, therefore, who 
believed that the actual solemnization of the marriage could be 
proved by witnesses present at the ceremony, this view of the 
case, which seemed to promise an interruption of the Succes- 
sion, could not fail to suggest some disquieting apprehensions 
and speculations, which nothing short, it was thought, of a pub- 
lic and authentic disavowal of the marriage altogether would 
be able effectually to allay. 

If in politics Princes are unsafe allies, in connections of a ten- 
derer nature they are still more perilous partners ; and a triumph 
over a Royal lover is dearly bought by the various risks and 
humiliations which accompany it. Not only is a lower standard 
of constancy applied to persons of that rank, but when once 
love-affairs are converted into matters of state, there is an end to 
all the delicacy and mystery that ought to encircle them. The 
disavowal of a Royal marriage in the Gazette would have been 
no novelty in English history ;f and the disclaimer, on the pre- 
sent occasion, though intrusted to a less official medium, was 
equally public, strong, and unceremonious. 

Mr. Fox, who had not been present in the House of Commons 



* Thus, a man, by contracting a second marriage, pending the, first marriage, commits 
a felony ; and the crime, according to its legal description, C(nsists in marrying, or con- 
tracting a marriage — though what he does is no more a marriage than that of the Heir- 
Apparent would be under the circumstances in question. 

The same principle, it appears, runs through the whole Law of Entails both in England 
and Scotland, and a variety of cases might be cited, in which, though the act done is void, 
yet the doing of it creates a forfeiture. 

f See, in Ellis's Letters of History, vol. iii. the declarations of Charles H. with respect 
to his marriage with " one Mrs. Wallers," signed b} himself and published in the Tyondou 
Gazette. 



RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSI^Y SHERIDAN. 805 

when the member for Devonshire alluded to the circumstance, 
*:ook occasion, on the next discussion of the question, and, as he 
declared, with the immediate authority of the Prince, to contra- 
dict the report of the marriage in the fullest and most unqualified 
terms : — it was, he said, " a miserable calumny, a low malicious 
falsehood, which had been propagated without doors, and made 
the wanton sport of the vulgar ; — a tale, fit only to impose upon 
the lowest orders, a monstrous invention, a report of a fact which 
had not the smallest degree of foundation, actually impossible to 
nave happened." To an observation from Mr. RoUe that " they 
all knew there was an act of Parliament which forbade such a 
marriage ; but that, though it could not be done under the formal 
sanction of the law, there were ways in which it might have taken 
place, and in which that law, in the minds of some persons, might 
have been satisfactorily evaded,'' — Mr. Fox replied, that " he did 
not deny the calumny in question merely with regard to certain 
existing laws, but that he denied it in toto^ in point of fact as well 
as of law : — it not only never could have happened legally, but it 
never did happen in any way whatsoever, and had from the be- 
ginning been a base and malicious falsehood." 

Though Mr. Rolle, from either obstinacy or real distrust, re- 
fused, in spite of the repeated calls of Mr. Sheridan and Mr. 
Grey, to declare himself satisfied with this declaration, it was 
felt by the minister to be at least sufficiently explicit and deci- 
sive, to leave him no farther pretext in the eyes of the public, 
for refusing the relief which the situation of the Prince required. 
Accordingly a" message from the Crown on the subject of His 
Royal Highness's debts was followed by an addition to his 
income of £10,000 yearly out of the Civil List ; an issue of 
£161,000 from the same source, for the discharge of his debts, 
and £20,000 on account of the works at Carlton House. 

In the same proportion that this authorized declaration was 
successful in satisfying the public mind, it must naturally have 
been painful and humiliating to the person whose honor was in- 
volved in it. The immediate consequence of this feelino- was a 



306 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

breach between that person and Mr. Fox, which, notwithstand 
uig the continuance, for so many years after, of the attachment 
of both to the same illustrious object, remained, it is understood, 
unreconciled to the last. 

If, in the first movement of sympathy with the pain excited in 
that quarter, a retractation of this public disavowal was thought 
of, the impossibility of finding any creditable medium through 
which to convey it, must soon have suggested itself to check the 
intention. Some middle course, however, it was thought, might 
be adopted, which, without going the full length of retracting, 
might tend at least to unsettle the impression left upon the pub- 
lic, and, in some degree, retrieve that loss of station, w^hich a 
disclaimer, coming in such an authentic shape, had entailed. To 
ask Mr. Fox to discredit his own statement was impossible. An 
application was, therefore, made to a young member of the party, 
who was then fast rising into the eminence which he has since so 
nobly sustained, and whose answ^er to the proposal is said to 
have betrayed some of that unaccommodating highmindedness, 
which, in more than one collision witn Royalty, has proved him 
but an unfit adjunct to a Court. The reply to his refusal was, 
'- Then I must get Sheridan to say something ;" — and hence, it 
seems, was the origin of those few dexterously unmeaning com 
pliments, w^ith which the latter, when the motion of Alderman 
Newenham was ^\^thdrawn, endeavored, without in the least de- 
gree weakening the declaration of Mr. Fox, to restore that equi- 
librium of temper and self-esteem, which such a sacrifice of gal- 
lantry to expediency had naturally disturbed. In alluding to the 
offer of the Prince, through Mr. Fox, to answer any questions 
upon the subject of his reported marriage, which it might be 
thought proper to put to him in the House, Mr. Sheridan 
said, — '-That no such idea had been pursued, and no such in- 
quiry had been adopted, was a point which did credit to the de- 
corum, the feelings, and the dignity of Parliament. But whilst 
His Royal Highness's feelings had no doubt been considered on 
this occasion, he must take the liberty of saying, however some 



mam} hoist. rIcHard brinsley sheridan. SO? 

might think it a subordinate consideration, that there was another 
person entitled, in every delicate and honorable mind, to the 
same attention ; one, whom he would not otherwise venture to 
describe or allude to, but by saying it was a name, which malice 
or ignorance alone could attempt to injure, and whose character 
and conduct claimed and were entitled to the truest respect." 



END OF VOU 1, 



CONTENTS TO VOL. XL 



CHAPTER I. 
Impeachment of Mr. Hastings • 5 

C rlAPTER II. 

Deam cf Mr. Sheridan's Father.— Verses by Mrs. Sheridan on the Death of 
her Sister, Mrs. Tickell .... . . .43 

CHAPTER III. 

Illness of the Kiag^ JLcgency. — Private Life of Mr. Sheridan. . 54 

CHAPTER IV. 

French Revolution. — Mr. Burke. — His Breach with Mr. Sheridan. — Disso- 
lution of Parliament. — Mr. Burke and Mr. Fox. — Russian Armament.^- 
Roval Scotch Boroughs. 96 

CHAPTER V. 
Death o^ Mrs. Sheridan 124 

CHAPTER VI. 

Drury-Lane Th}atre. — Society of '• The Friends of the People." — Madame 
de Genlis. — War with France. — Whig Seceders. — Speeches in Parlia- 
ment.— Death of Tickell 143 

CHAPTER VII. 

Speech in Answer to Lord Mornington. — Coalition of the Whig Seceders 
with Mr. Pitt. — Mr. Canning. — Evidence on the Trial of Home Tooke. — 
The " Glorious First of June.-* — Marriage of Mr. Sheridan. — Pamphlet 
of Mr. ReeTos. — Debts of the Prince of Wales.— Shakspeare Manuscripts. 
— Trial of Stone. —Mutiny at the Nore.— Secession of Mr. Fox from 
Parliament. .......,.,• 177 

(3) 



rv CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER YIII. 

Play oi *' The Strangor."— Spoecbos in PaiiiarjenL.--Pizarro. — Ministry 
oi Mr. Addington. — French Institute.— Negotiations with Mr. Kem- 
ble 203 

CHAPTER IX. 

Slate of Parties. — Offer of a Place to Mr. T. Sheridan. — Receivership of 
the Duchy of Cornwall bestowed upon Mr. Sheridan. — Return of Mr. 
Pitt to Power. — Catholic Question. — Administration of Lord Grenville 
and Mr. Fox. — Death of Mr. Fox. — Representation of Westminster. — 
Dismission of the Ministry. — Theatrical Negotiation. — Spanish Question. 
— Letter to the Prince 225 

CHAPTER X. 

Destruction of the Theatre of Drury-Lane by Fire. — Mr. Whitbread.- 
Plan for a Third Theatre. — Illness of the King. — Regency. — Lord Grey 
and Lord Grenville. — Conduct of Mr. Sheridan. — His Vindication of 
Himself. 259 

CHAPTER XI. 

Affairs' of the new Theatre. — Mr. 'WTii thread. — Negotiations with Lord 
Grey and Lord Grenville. — Conduct of Mr. Sheridan relative to the 
Household. — His Last Words in Parliament. — Failure at Stafford. — Cor« 
respondence with Mr. Whitbrc^ad. — Lord Byron. — Distresses of Sheri- 
dan. — Illness. — Death and Funeral. — General Remark^ , 285 



MEMOIES 

OF THE 

LIFE OF THE RT. HON. 

RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN 



CHAPTER I. 

IMPEACHMENT OF MK. HASTINGS. 

The motion of Mr. Burke on the lOtli of May, 1787, " That 
Warren Hastings, Esq., be impeached," having been carried with- 
out a division, Mr. Sheridan was appointed one of the Managers, 
" to make good the Articles " of the Impeachment, and, on the 
3d of June in the follov/ing year, brought forward the same 
CTnarge in Westminster Hall which he had already enforced with 
such wonderful talent in the House of Commons. 

To be called upon for a second great effort of eloquence, on a 
subject of which all the facts and the bearings remained the same, 
was, it must be acknowledged, no ordinary trial to even the most 
fertile genius ; and Mr. Fox, it is said, hopeless of any second flight 
ever rising to the grand elevation of the first, advised that the for- 
mer Speech should be, with very little change, repeated. But such 
a plan, however welcome it might be to the indolence of his friend, 
would Aave looked too like an acknowledgment of exhaustion on 
the .-aDject to be submitted to by one so j astly confident in the 
resources both of his reascm and fancy. Accordingly, he had the 
glory of again opening, in the very same field, a new and abundant 
spring of eloquence, which, during four days, diffused its enchant- 



6 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

ment among aii assembly of the most illustrious persons of the 
l?^nd, and of which Mr. Burke pronounced at its conclusion, that 
'• of all the various species of oratory, of every kind of eloquence 
\]v?:j had been heard, either in ancient or modern times ; whatever 
the acuteness of the bar, the dignity of the senate, or the morality 
of the pulpit could furnish, had not been equal to what that House 
had that day heard in Westminster Hall. No holy religionist, 
no man of any description as a literary character, could have come 
up, in the one instance, to the pure sentiments of morality, or in 
the other, to the variety of knowledge, force of imagination, pro- 
priety and vivacity of allusion, beauty and elegance of diction, and 
strength of expression, to which they had that day listened. From 
poetry up to eloquence there was not a species of composition of 
which a complete and perfect specimen might not have been cull- 
ed, from oee part or the other of the speech to which he alluded, 
and which, he w^as persuaded, had left too strong an impression on 
the minds of that House to be easily obliterated." 

As some atonement to the world for the loss of the Speech in 
the House of Commons, this second master-piece of eloquence 
on the same subject has been preserved to us in a Report, from 
the short-'iand notes of Mr. Gurney, which was for some time in 
the possession of the late Duke of Norfolk, but w^as afterwards 
restored to Mr. Sheridan, and is now in my hands. 

In order to enable the reader fully to understand the extracts 
from this Report which I am about to give, it will be necessary to 
detail brietiy the history of the transaction, on which the charge 
brought forward in the Speech was founded. 

Among the native Princes w^ho, on the transfer of the sceptre 
of Tamerlane to the East India Company, became tributaries or 
rather slaves to tlmt Honorable body, none seems to have been 
treated with more capricious cruelty than Cheyte Sing, the Rajah 
of Benares. In defiance of a solemn treaty, entered into between 
him paid :he government of Mr. Hastings, by which it was sti- 
pulated that, besides his fixed tribute, no further demands, of any 
kind, should be made upon him, new exactions were every year 
enforced ; —while the humble remonstnwces of the Rajah agahist 



EIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 7 

such gross injustice were not onl}^ treated with sh'ght. but pun- 
ished by arbitrary and enormous fines. Even the proffer of a 
bribe succeeded only in being accepted* — the exactions which it 
was intended to avert being continued as rigorously as before. 
At length, in the year 1781, Mr. Hastings, who invariably, among 
the objects of his government, placed the interests of Leadenhall- 
Street first on the list, and those of justice and humanity lonjo 
mtervallo after, — finding the treasury of the Company in a very 
exhausted state, resolved to sacrifice this unlucky Rajah to their 
replenishment ; and having as a preliminary step, imposed upon 
him a mulct of £500,000, set out immediately for his capital, 
Benares, to compel the payment of it. Here, afler rejecting with 
insult the suppliant advances of the Prince, he put him under 
arrest, and imprisoned him in his own palace. This violation of 
the rights and the roof of their sovereign drove the people of 
the whole province into a sudden burst of rebellion, of which Mr. 
Hastings himself was near being the victim. Tlie usual triumph, 
however, of might over right ensued; the Rajah's castle was 
plundered of all its treasures, and his mother, who had 'xiken 
refuge in the fort, and only surrendered it on the express stipu- 
lation that she and the other princesses should pass out safe from 
the dishonor of search, was, in violation of this condition, and at 
the base suggestion of Mr. Hastings himself,f rudely examined 
and despoiled of all her effects. The Governor-General, how 
ever, in this one instance, Incurred the full odium of iniquity 
without reaping any of its reward. The treasures found in he 

* This was the transaction that formed one of the principal grounds of the Se\'entn 
Charge brought forward in the House of Commons by Mr. Sheridan. The suspicious cir 
cumsta:ic'er> attending this present are thus summed up by Mr. Mill: "At first, perfect 
concealment of the transaction — such measures, however, taken as may, if afterwards 
necessary, appear to imply a design of future disclosure ; — when concealment becomes 
difficult f.fid hazardous, then disclosure made." — History of BHtish India. 

"f In his letter to the Commanding Oificer at Bidgegur. The following are the terms ;i 
which he convey?, the hint : "I apprehend that she will contrive to defraud the captors c! 
a considciable part of the booty, by being suffered to retiie without examinaiifm. But this 
is yocr cr.r.5idoratioti, and not mine, t fjliould be vc>y sorry that your offict-rs and nol 
die'-j lost any part of the reward to which they are so well entitled ; but I cannot nif.ke 
any objection, n& >ou must be the best judge of the expediency of \hQ promised indulgence 



8 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

castle of the Rajah were inconsiderable, and the soldiers, who had 
shown themselves so docile in receiving the lessons of plunder, 
were found inflexibly obstinate in refusing to admit their instruc- 
tor to a share. Disappointed, therefore, in the primary object 
of his expedition, the Governor-General looked round for some 
richer harvest of rapine, and the Begums of Oude presented 
themselves as the most convenient victims. These Princesses, 
the mother and grandmother of the reigning Nabob of Oude, 
had been left by the late sovereign in possession of certain 
government-estates, or jaghires, as well as of all the treasure that 
was in his hands at the time of his death, and which the oriental- 
ized imaginations of the English exaggerated to an enormous 
sum. The present Nabob had evidently looked with an eye of 
o'^pidity on this wealth, and had been guilty of some acts of ex- 
tortion towards his female relatives, in consequence of which the 
English government had interfered between them, — and had even 
guaranteed to the mother of the Nabob the safe possession of 
her property, without any further encroachment whatever. Gua- 
rantees and treaties, however, were but cobwebs in the way of 
Mr. Hastings ; and on his failure at Benares, he lost no time in 
concluding an agreemeut with the Nabob, by which (in consider- 
ation of certain measui-es of relief to his dominions) this Prince 
was bound to plunder his mother and grandmother of all their 
property, and place it at the disposal of the Governor-General. 
In order to give a color of justice to this proceeding, it was* pre- 
tended that these Princesses had taken advantage of the late insur- 
rection at Benares, to excite a similar spirit of revolt in Oude 
against the reigning Nabob and the English government. As 
I.aw is but too often, in such cases, the ready accomplice of 
lyranny, the services of the Chief Justice, Sir Elijah Impey, 
were called in to sustain the accusations ; and the wretched 
mockery was exhibited of a J udge travelling about in search of 
evidence,f for the express purpose of proving a charge, upon 

* " It was the practice of Mr. Hastings (says Burke, in his fine speech on Mr. Pitt's In- 
dia Bill, March 22, 1786 to examine the country, and where rer he lOhztfA money lis a.1.x 
^ui't. A more I'ireadful fault could not be alleg-ed against a native than that he was rich.'' 

f Tins journey of the Chief Justice ii) seq..rch of ev'idcuce is thus liappiiy describe-*! by 



EIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. V 

wnich judgment had been pronounced and punishment decreed 
already. 

The Nabob himself, though sufficiently ready to make the 
wealth of those venerable ladies occasionally minister to his 
wants, yet shrunk back, with natural reluctance, from the sum- 
mary task now imposed upon him ; and it was not till after re- 
peated and peremptory remonstrances from Mr. Hastings, that 
he could be induced to put himself at the head of a body of 
English troops, and take possession, by unresisted force, of the 
town and palace of these Princesses. As the treasure, however, 
was still secure in the apartments of the women, — that circle, 
within which even the spirit of English rapine did not venture, 
— .an expedient was adopted to get over this inconvenient deli- 
cacy. Two aged eunuchs of high rank and distinction, the con- 
fidential agents of the Begums, were thrown into prison, and 
subjected to a course of starvation and torture, by which it 
was hoped that the feelings of their mistresses might be worked 
upon, and a more speedy surrender of their treasure wrung from 
them. The plan succeeded : — upwards of 500,000/. was pro- 
cured to recruit the finances of the Company ; and thus, accord- 
ing to the usual course of British power in India, rapacity but 
levied its contributions in one quarter, to enable war to pursue 
its desolating career in another. 

To crown all, one of the chief articles of the treaty, by which 
fhe Nabob w^as reluctantly induced to concur in these atrocious 
measures, was, as^soonas the object had been gained, infringed by 
Mr. Hastings, who, in a letter to his colleagues in the government, 

gheridan in the Speech :— '' When, on the 28th of Xovember, he was busied at Lucknow on 
that honorable business, and when, three days aftrr, he was found at Chunar, at the dis- 
tance of 200 miles, still searching for affidavits, and, like Hamlet's ghost, exclaimmg, 
'Swear,' his progress on that occasion was so whimsically rapid, compared with tne 
gravity of his ecnploy, that an observer would be tempted to quote again from the same 
scene, *Ha ! Old Truepenny, canst thou mole so fast i' the ground ?' Here, however, the 
comparison ceased ; for, when Sir Elijah made his visit to Lucknow 'to whet the ahriost 
blunted purpose' of Xh^ Nabob, his language was wholly different from that of the poet, 
—for it would have been tolall}' against his purpose to have said, 

' Taint not thy mind, nor let thy soul contrive 
Against thy mother aught.' " 

VOL. n. 1^ 



10 MEMOIES OF THE LIFE OF TilE 

iionestly confesses that rhe concession of t at article was only a 
frar-muient artifice of diplomacy, and never intended to be ciir- 
ri^-d into effect. 

Sncli is an outline of the case, which, with all its aggravating 
details, Mr. Sheridan had to state in these two memorable 
Speeches ; and it was certainly most fortunate for the display of his 
peculiar powers, that this should be the Charge confided to his man- 
agement. For, not only was it the strongest, and susceptible of 
the highest charge of coloring, but it had also the advantage of 
grouping together all the principal delinquents of the trial, and 
aiibrding a gradation of hue, from the show^y and prominent 
enormities of the Governor-General and Sir Elijah Impey in the 
front of the picture, to the subordinate and half-tint iniquity of 
the Middletons and Bristows in the back-ground. 

Mr. Burke, it appears, had at first reserved this grand part in 
the drama of the Impeachment for himself; but, finding that 
Sheridan had also fixed his mind upon it, he, without hesitation, 
resigned it into his hands ; thus proving the sincerity of his zeal 
in the cause,* by sacrificing even the vanity of talent to its suc- 
cess. 

The following letters from him, relative to the Impeachment, 
will be read w^ith interest. The first is addressed to Mrs. Sheri- 
dan, and was written, I think, early in the proceedings ; the 
second is to Sheridan himself: — 

" Madam, 
" I am sure you will have the goodness to excuse the liberty I take 
with you, when you consider the interest which I have and which 
the Public have (the said Public being, at least, half an inch a 
taller person than I am) in tlie use of Mr. Sheridan's abilities. 
I know that his mind is seldom unemployed; but then, like all 

* Of the lengths to which this zeal could sometimes carry his fancy and language, 
rather, perhaps, than his actual feelings, the following anecdote is a remarkable proof. 

On one of the days of the trial, Lord , who was then a boy, having been intioduced 

by a relative into the Manager's box, Burke said to him, ''I am glad to see you here — I 
shall be still gladder to see you there-^(pointiiig to the Peers' seats) I hope you will l)e 
iri at the 'kalh — T siioiild like to blood you."' 



RIGHT FON RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. H 

such great and vigorous minds, it takes an eagle flight ^: ts^lf, 
fiiid we can kirdly bring it lo rustle along the ground, witii us 
birds of meaner wing, in coveys. I only beg that you wm Die- 
vail on Mr. Sheridan to be with us this day, at half after tnree, 
in the Committee. Mr. Wombell, the Paymaster of Oude, is 
to be examined there io-day. Oude is Mr. Sheridan's particular 
province ; and I do most seriously ask that he would favor us with 
his assistance. What will come of the examination I know not; 
but, without him, I do not expect a great deal from it; with him, 
I fancy we may get out something material. Once more let me 
entreat your interest with Mr. Sheridan and your forgiveness for 
being troublesome to you, and do me the justice to believe me, 
with the most sincere respect, 

" Madam, your most obedient 

''• and faithfu". humble Servant, 
" Thursday, 9 o'clocJc, " Edm. Burke." 

" My dear Sir, 

" You have only to wish to be excused to succeed in your 
wishes ; for, indeed, he must be a great enemy to himself who 
can consent, on account of a momentary ill-humor, to keep him- 
self at a distance from you. 

"Well, all will turn out right, — and half of you, or a quarter, 
is worth five other men. I think that this cause, which was 
originally yours, will be recognized by you, and that you will 
again possess yourself of it. The ov/ner's mark is on it, and all 
our docking and cropping cannot hinder its being known and 
cherished by its original master. My most humble respects to 
Mrs. Sheridan. I am happy to find that she takes in good part 
the liberty I presumed to take with her. Grey has done much 
aud will do every thing. It is a pity that he is not always toned 
to the full extent of his talents. 

" Most truly yours, 

^ Monday. '' Edm. Burkb. 

" I feel a little sickish at the approaching day. I have read 



12 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

much — too much, perhaps, — and, in truth, am but poorly pre- 
pared. Many things, too, have broken in upon me."* 

Though a Report, ho weveT* accurate, must always do injustice 
to that effective kind of oratory which is intended rather to be 
heard than read, and, though frequently, the passages that most 
roused and interested the hearer, are those that seem afterwards 
the tritest and least animated to the reader,f yet, with all this 
disadvantage, the celebrated oration in question so well sustains 
its reputation in the perusal, that it would be injustice, having an 
authentic Report in my possession, not to produce some speci- 
mens of its style and spirit. 

In the course of his exordium, after dwelling upon the great 
importance of the inquiry in which they v/ere engaged, and dis- 
claiming for himself and his brother-managers any feeling of 
personal malice against the defendant, or any motive but that of 
retrieving the honor of the British name in India, and bringing 
down punishment upon those whose inhumanity and injustice had 
disgraced it, — he thus proceeds to conciliate the Court by a warm 
tribute to the purity of English justice : — 

'' However, when I have said this, I trust Your Lordships will not be- 
lieve that, because something is necessary to retrieve the British character, 
w^e call for an example to be made, without due and solid proof of the guilt 
of the person whom we pursue :^no, my Lords, we know well that it is 
the glory of this Constitution, that not the general fame or character of any 
man — not the weight or power of any prosecutor — no plea of moral or 
political expediency — not even the secret consciousness of guilt, whioL 
may live in the bosom of the Judge, can justify any British Court in pass- 
ing any sentence, to touch a hair of the head, or an atom in any respect 
of tlie property, of the fame, of the liberty of the poorest or meanest sub 
ject that breathes the air of this just and free land. We know, my Lords, 
that there can be no legal guilt without legal proof, and that the rulf» 
which defines the evidence is as much the law of the land as that which 
creates the crime. It is upon that ground we mean to stand." 

* For this letter, as well as some other valuable communications, I am in^lebted to tae 
kindness of Mr. Burgess, — the Solicitor and friend of Sheridan during the last t'Viiity 
years of his life 

f The converse assertion is almost equally true. Mr. Fox used to ask of a prints, 
speech, " Does it read well?'' and, if answered in the affirmaiive, said, '' Then it was f 
bad speech." 



RIGHT HOK. HiCHARi) BRiNSLEY SH7.RiDAN. J8 

Among those ready equivocations and disavowals, to wlu'ih 
Mr. Hastings had recourse upon every emergency, and in which 
practice seems to have rendered him as shameless as expert, the 
step which he took with regard to his own defence during the 
trial was not the least remarkable for promptness and audacity. 
He had, at the commencement of the prosecution, delivered at 
the bar of the House of Commons, as his own, a written refu- 
tation of the charges then pending against him in that House, 
declaring at the same time, that " if truth could tend to convict 
him, he was content to be, himself, the channel to convey it." 
Afterwards, however, on finding that he had committed himself 
rather imprudently in this defence, he came forward to disclaim 
it at the bar of the House of Lords, and brought his friend 
Major Scott to prove that it had been drawn up by Messrs. 
Shore, Middleton, &c. &c.— that he himself had not even seen it, 
and therefore ouo-ht not to be held accountable for its contents. 
In adverting to this extraordinary evasion, Mr. Sheridan thus 
shrewdly and playfully exposes all the persons concerned in it : — 

'' Major Scott comes to your bar — describes the shortness of time — re- 
presents Mr. Hastings as it were contracting for a character — putting his 
memory hdo commission — making departments for his conscience. A num- 
ber of friends meet together, and he, knowing (no doubt) that the accusa- 
tion of the Commons had been drawn up by a Committee, thought it ne- 
cessary, as a point of punctilio, to answer it by a Committee also. One fur- 
nishes the raw material of fact, the second spins the argument, and the 
third twines up the conclusion ; while Mr. Hastings, with a master's eye, 
is cheering and looking over this loom. He says to one, ^ You have got my 
good faith in your hands — you, my veracity to manage. Mr. Shore, I hope 
you will make me a good financier — Mr. Middleton. you have my humanity 
in commission.' — When it is done, he brings it to the House of Commons, 
and says, ' I was equal to the task. I knew the difficulties, but I scorn 
them : here is the truth, and if the truth will convict me, I am content my- 
self to be the channel of it.' His friends hold up their heads, and say, ' What 
noble magnanimity ! This must be the effect of conscious and real inno- 
cence.- Well, it is so received, it is so argued upon, — but it fails of its 
eflect. 

^^ Then says Mr. Hastings, — ' That my defence ! no, mere journeyman- 
work, — go 3d enough for the Commons, but not fit for Your Lordships- con- 
Bideration.' He then calls upon his Counsel to save him : — ' I fear none of 



l4 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

my fxccusers' witnesses — T know some of them w^ell — I know the weakness 
ot their memory, and the strength of their attachment — I fear no testi- 
mony but my own — save rae from the peril of my own panegyric — preserve 
me from that, and I shall be safe.' Then is this plea brought to Your Lord- 
ships' bar, and Major Scott gravely asserts, — that Mr. Hastings did, at the 
bar of the House of Commons, vouch for facts of which he was ignorant, 
and for arguments which he had never read. 

^' After such an attempt, we certainly are left in doubt to decide, to which 
set of his friends Mr. Hastings is least obliged, those who assisted him in 
making his defence, or those who advised him to deny it." 

He thus describes the feelings of the people of the East with 
respect to the unapproachable sanctity of their Zenanas : — 

*' It is too much, I am afraid, the case, that persons, used to European 
manners, do not take up these sort of considerations at first with the se- 
riousness that is necessary. For Your Lordships cannot even learn the 
right nature of those people's feelings and prejudices from any history of 
other Mahometan countries,— not even from that of the Turks, for they 
are a mean and degraded race in comparison with many of these great 
families, who, inheriting from their Persian ancestors, preserve a purer 
style of prejudice and a loftier superstition. Women there are not as in 
Turkey — they neither go to the mosque nor to the bath — it is not the thin 
veil alone that hides them — but in the inmost recesses of their Zenana they 
are kept from public view by those reverenced and protected walls, which, 
as Mr. Hastings and Sir Elijah Impey admit, are held sacred even by the 
ruffian hand of war or by the more uncourteous hand of the law. But, in 
this situation, they are not confuicd from a mean and selnsh policy of man 
— not from a coarse and sensual jealousy — enshrined rather than immured, 
their habitation and retreat is a sanctuary, not a prison — their jealousy is 
their own — a jealousy of their own honor, that leads them to regard liberty 
as a degradation, and the gaze of even admiring eyes as inexpiable pollu- 
tion to the purity of their fame and the sanctity of their honor. 

'• Such being the general opinion (or prejudices, let them be called) of 
this country, Your Lordships will find, that whatever treasures were given 
or lodged in a Zenana of this description must, upon the evidence of the 
thing itself, be placed beyond the reach of resumption. To dispute with 
the Counsel about the original right to those treasures— to talk of a title to 
them by the Mahometan law !— their title to them is the title of a Saint to 
the relics upon an altar, placed there by Piety,* guarded by holy Super- 
a'iitfon, and to be snatched from thence only by Sacrilege." 

« This metaphor was rather roughly handled afterwards (1794) by Mr. Law. ore of tUe 
adverse Counse., who asked, how could ihe Begum be considered as "a Saint," or Jiew 



tHaUT HOK. RlCttAUD BtllNSLEY SnEHlDAN. 15 

in showing that the Nabob was driven to this robbery of hi., 
lelatives hy other considerations than those of the pretended re- 
bellion, which was afterwards conjured up by Mr. Hastings to 
justify it, he says, — 

'' The fact is, that throngn all his defences— through all his various false 
suggestions— through all these various rebellions and dlsaffections, Mr. 
Hastings never once lets go this plea— of extinguishable right in the Na- 
bob. He constantly represents the seizing the treasures as a resumption of 
a right which he could not part with ;— as if there were literally something 
in the Koran, that made it criminal in a true Mussulman to keep his en- 
gagements with his relations, and impious in a son to abstain from plunder- 
ing his mother. I do gravely assure your Lordships that there is no such 
doctrine in the Koran, and no such principle makes a part in the civil or 
municipal jurisprudence of that country. Even after these Princesses had 
been endeavoring to dethrone the Nabob and to extirpate the English, the 
only plea the Nabob ever makes, is his right under the Mahometan law ; 
and the truth is, he appears never to have heard any other reason, and I 
pledge myself to make it appear to Your Lordships, however extraordirar^ 
it may be, that not only liad the Nabob never heard of the rebelllcn till the 
moment of seizing the palace, but, still further, that he never heard of it 
at all ;— that this extraordinary rebellion, which was as notorious as the re- 
bellion of 1745 in London, was carefully concealed from those two parties 
—the Begums who plotted it, and the Nabob who was to be the vic|^n of it. 
" The existence of this rebellion was not the secret, but the notoriety of 
It was the secret ; it was a rebellion vvhich had for its object the destruction 
of no human creature but those who planned it ;— it was a rebellion which, 
according to Mr. Middleton's expression, no man. either horse or foot, ever 
marched to quell. The Chief Justice was the only man who took the field 
against it,— the force against which it was raised. Instantly withdrew to 
give it elbow-room,— and, even then, it was a rebellion which perversely 
showed itself in acts of hospitality to the Nabob whom it was to dethrone, 
and to the English whom it was to extirpate ;— it was a rebellion plotted 
by tvv-o feeble old women, headed by two eunuchs, and suppressed by an 
affidavit.'' 

The acceptance, or rather exaction, of the private present of 
£100,000 is thus animadverted upon: 

wore the camels, wliich formed part of the treasure, to be "placed upon the altar '' 
Sneridan, in reply, said, "It was the first time in his life he had ever heard of specica 
pleading on a metaphor, or a hill of indidmrnt aaainsl a trope. Vaw such was tne lurr. of 
the learned Counsel's mind, that, vvlien he attempted to be humorous, no jest could w 
founa, and, when serious, no fact was visible." 



16 MiiMOIRS OF THE LI^E OF THS 

'• V.y Loi'ds; such was the distressed situation of the Nabob about n 
twelvemonth before Mr. Hastings met him at Chunar. It was a twelve- 
month, I say, after this miserable scene— a mighty period in the progress 
of British rapacity — it was (if the Counsel will) after some natural calami- 
ties had aided the superior vigor of British violence and rapacity — it was 
after the country had felt other calamities besides the English — it was after 
the angry dispensations of Providence had, with a progressive severity 
of chastisement, visited the land with a famine one year, and with a Col. 
Ilannay the next — it was after he, this Hannay, had returned to retrace the 
steps of his former ravages — it was after he and his voracious crew had 
come to plunder ruins which himself had made, and to glean from desola- 
tion the little that famine had spared, or rapine overlooked ; — then it was 
that this miserable bankrupt prince marching through his country, besieged 
by the clamors of his starving subjects, who cried to him for protection 
through their cages — meeting the curses of some of his subjects, and the 
prayers of others — with famine at his heels, and reproach following him, — 
then it was that this Prince is represented as e^^ercising this act of prodigal 
bounty to the very man whom he here reproaches — to the very man whose 
policy had extinguished his power, and whose creatures had desolated his 
country. To talk of a free-will gift ! it is audacious and ridiculous to name 
the supposition. It was 7iot a free-will gift. What was it then ? was it a 
bribe ? or was it extortion ? I shall prove it was both — it was an act of 
gross bribery and of rank extortion.'' 

A^iin he thus adverts to this present : — 

'* The first thing he does is, to leave Calcutta, in order to go to the re- 
lief of the distressed Nabob. The second thing, is to take 100,000/. from 
that distressed Nabob on account of the distressed Company. And the third 
thing is to ask of the distressed Company this very same sum on account 
of the distresses of Mr. Hastings. There never were three distresses that 
3eemedso little reconcilable with one another.*' 

Anticipating the plea of state-necessity, which might possibly 
be set up in defence of the measures of the Governor-General, 
he breaks out into the following rhetorical passage : — 

** State necessity ! no, my Lords : that imperial tyrant. State Necessity^ 
is yet a generous despot, — Vjold is his demeanor, rapid his decisions, and 
te^i'ible his grasp. But what he does, my Lords, he dares avow, and avow- 
ing, scorns any other justification, than the great motives that placed the 
iron sceptre in his hand. But a quibbling, pilfering, prevaricating State- 
Necessity, that tries to skulk behind the skirts of Justice ; — a State-Neces- 
sity that tries to steal a pitiful justification from vrhispered accusations and 



l^IGHT HON. RICHARD SRINSLEY SHERtbA^. 

fabricated rumors. No. my Lords, that is no State Neces&ity ;— tear off the 
mask, and you see coarse, vulgar avarice, — you see speculation, lurking 
under the gaudy disguise, and adding the guilt of libelling the public 
honor to its own prii ate fraud. 

'' My Lords, I say this, because I am sure the Managers would make 
every allowance that state-necessity could claim upon any great emergen- 
cy. If any great man in bearing the arras of this country ; — if any Ad- 
miral, bearing the vengeance and the glory of Britain to distant coasts, 
should be compelled to some rash acts of violence, in order, perhaps, to 
give food to those who are shedding their blood for Britain ; — if any great 
General, defending some fortress, barren itself, perhaps, but a pledge of the 
pride, and, with the pride, of the power of Britain ; if such a man were to 
* * * while he himself was * * at the top, like an 

eagle besieged in its imperial nest ;* — would the Commons of England come 
to accuse or to arraign such acts of state-necessity ? No." 

In describing that swarm of English pensioners >and placemen, 
who were still, in violation of the late purchased treaty, left to 
prey on the finances of the Nabob, he says, — 

*' Here we find they were left, as heavy a weight upon the Nabob as ever, 
— left there with as keen an appetite, though not so clamorous. They were 
reclining on the roots and shades of that spacious tree, which their prede- 
cessors had stripped branch and bough — watching with eager eyes the fii'st 
budding of a future prosperity, and of the opening harvest which they con- 
sidered as the prey of their perseverance and rapacity." 

We have in the close of the following passage, a specimen of 
that lofty style, in w^hich, as if under the influence of Eastern 
associations, almost all the Managers of this Trial occasionally 
indulged :f — 

* The Reporter, at many of these passages, seems to have thrown aside his pen in 
despair. 

t Much of this, however, is to be set down to the gratuitous bombast of the Reporter. 
Mr. Fox, for instance, is made to say, " Yes, my Lords, happy is it for the world, that the 
penetrating gaze of Providence searches after man, and in the dark den where he has 
stifled the remonstrances of conscience darts his compulsatory rayj that, bursting the se- 
crecy of guilt, driv'es the criminal frantic to confession and expiation." History of the 
Trial. — Even one of the Counsel, Mr. Dallas, is represented as having caught this Oriental 
contagion, to such a degeee as to express himself in the following manner : — '-We are 
now, bo«vever, (said the Counsel,) advancing from the star-light of Circumstance to the 
day-light of Discovery : the sun of Certainty is melting the darkness, and — we are ar* 
rived at facts admitted by both parties !" 



18 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

** I do not mean to say that Mr. Middleton had direct instructions fi'Oin 
Mr Hastings. — that he told him to go, and give that fallacious assurance 
to the Nabob, — that he had that order under his hand. No —but in looking 
attentively over Mr. Middleton's correspondence, you will find him say, 
upon a more important occasion, ' I don't expect your public authority for 
this ; — it is enough if you but hhit your pleasure.' He knew him well ; he 
could interpret every nod and motion of that head ; he understood the 
glances of that eye which sealed the perdition of nations, and at whose 
throne Princes waited, in pale expectation, for their fortune or their doom." 

The following is one of those labored passages, of which the 
orator himself was perhaps most proud, but in which the effort 
to be eloquent is too visible, and the effect, accordingly, falls 
short of the pretension: — 

" You see how Truth — empowered by tEat will which gives a giant's 
nerve to an infant's arm — has burst the monstrous mass of fraud that has 
endeavored to suppress it. — It calls now to Your Lordships, in the weak 
but clear tone of that Cherub, Innocence, whose voice is more persuasive 
than eloquence, more convincing than argument, whose look is supplica- 
tion, whose tone is conviction, — it calls upon you for redress, it calls upon 
you for vengeance upon the oppressor, and points its heave i-directed hand 
to the detested, but unrepenting author of its wrongs !'' 

His description of the desolation brought upon some provinces 
of Oude by the misgovernment of Colonel Hann y, and of the 
insurrection at Goruckpore against that officer in consequence, is, 
perhaps, the most masterly portion of the whole speech : — 

" If we could suppose a person to have come suddenly into the country 
unacquainted with any circumstances that had passed since the days of 
Sujah ul Dowlah, he would naturally ask — what cruel hand has wrought 
this wide desolation, what barbarian foe has invaded the country, has deso- 
lated its fields, depopulated its villages? He would ask, what disputed 
succession, civil rage, or frenzy of the inhabitants, had induced them to 
act in hostility to the words of God, and the beauteous works of man ? 
He would ask what religious zeal or frenzy had added to the mad despair 
and horrors of war ? The ruin is unlike any thing that appears recorded 
in any age ; it looks like neither the* barbarities of m.en.nor the judgments 
of vindictive heaven. There is a waste of desolation, as if caused by fell 
destroyers, never meaning to return and making but a short period of thv'^ir 
rapacity. It looks as if some fabled monster had made its passage thro^icrh 
the country, whose pestiferous breath had blasted m.ore than its voraciou? 
appetite could devour." 



JIIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 19 

"If there had been any men in the country, who had not their hearts 
and souls so subdued by fear, as to refuse to speak the truth at ail upon 
such a subject, they would have told him, there had been no war since 
the time of Sujah ui Dowlah, — tyrant, indeed, as he was, but then deeply 
regi'etted by his subjects — that no hostile blow of any enemy had been 
struck in that land — that there had been no disputed succession — no civil 
war — no religious frenzy. But that these were the tokens of British friend- 
ship, the marks left by the embraces of British allies — more dreadful than 
the blows of the bitterest enemy. They would tell him that these allies 
had converted a prince into a slave, to make him the principal in the ex- 
tortion upon his subjects ; — that their rapacity increased in proportion as 
the means of supplying their avarice diminished ; that they made the sove- 
reign pay as if they had a right to an increased price, because the labor 
of extortion and plunder increased. To such causes, they would tell him. 
these calamities were owing. 

'^ Need I refer Your Lordships to the strong testimony of Major Naylor 
when he rescued Colonel Hannay from their hands — where you see that 
this people, born to submission and bent to most abject subjection — that 
even they, in whose meek hearts injury had never yet begot resentment, 
nor even despair bred courage— that their hatred, their abhorrence of 
Colonel Hannay was such that they clung round him by thousands and 
thousands ;--that when Major Naylor rescued him, they refused life from 
the hand that could rescue Hannay ; — that they nourished this desperate 
consolation, that by their death they should at least thm the number of 
wretches who suffered by his devastation and extortion. He says that, 
when he crossed the river, he found the poor wretches quivering upon 
the parched banks of the polluted river, encouraging their blood to flow, 
and consoling themselves with the thought, that it would not sink into the 
earth, but rise to the common God of humanity, and cry aloud for vengeance 
on their destroyers ! — This warm description — which is no declamation of 
mine, but founded in actual fact, and in fair, clear proof before Your Lord- 
ships — speaks powerfully what the cause of these oppressions were, and 
the perfect justness of those feelings that were occasioned by them. And 
yet, my Lords, I am asked to prove why these people arose in such con- 
c(Tt : — ' there must have been machinations, forsooth, and the Begums' 
macliinations, to produce all this !' — Why did they rise ! — Because they 
were people in human shape ; because patience under the detested tyran- 
ny of man is rebellion to the sovereignty of God ; because allegiance to 
that Povrer that gives us W\q forms of men commands us to maintain the 
rights of men. And never yet was this truth dismissed from the human 
heart — never in any time, in any age — never in any clime, where rude man 
ever nad any social feeling, or where corrupt refinement had subdued all 



20 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

fe,,li„,rg -nevfr was this one unsxtinguiKbablc truth dcrtrojed from the 
heart of man. placed as it is, in the core and centre of it by his MaKcr 
that man was not made the property of nnvn ; that human power is a trunt 
for human benelit; and that when it is abu.ed, revenge becomes justice, 
If not tl>e boumlen duty of the injured ! Tliese, my Lords, were the causes 
why those people rose." 

Another |,assagc in the second duy's speech is remarkable, as 
exhibiting a sort of tourney of intellect between Sheridan and 
Burke, and in that field of abstract speculation, which was the fa- 
vorite'arena of the latter. Mr. Burke had, in opening the prose- 
cution, remarked, that prudence is a quality incompatible xnth 
vice, and can never be effectively enlisted in its cause:— "I never 
(said he) knew a man who was bad, fit for service that was good. 
There is always some discpialifying ingredient, mixing and spoil- 
in-r the compound. The man seems paralytic on that side, his 
muscles there have lost their very tone and character— they can- 
not move. In short, the accomplishment of any thing good is a 
physical impossibility for such a man. There is decrepitude as 
well as distortion: he could not, if he would, is not more cer- 
tain than that he would not, .f he could." To this sentiment the 
allusions in the following passage refer :— 

"I am perfectly convinced that there is one idea, which must arise in 
Your Lordships' minds as a subject of wouder,-how a person of Mr Has- 
tin-rs' reputed abilities can furnish such matter of accusation aga.nst hun- 
self° For it must be admitted that ucver was there a person who seems 
to CO so rashly to work, with such an arrogant appearance of contempt for 
all conclusions, that maybe deduced from what he advances upon the 
snbiect When he seems most earnest and laborious to defend himself, 
it ■vi.r.oars as if he had but one idea uppermost in his mind-a determina- 
tion not to care what he says, provided he keeps clear of fact. He knows 
that truth must convict him, and concludes, a converxo, that falsehood will 
i,'„uit hm ; forgetting that there must be somc^ connection, some system, 
Jie co-operation, or, otherwise, his host of falsities fall withoiit an enemy 
self-discomfited and destroyed. But of this he never seems to have had 
ihe sli..l,t..st apprehension, lie falls to work, an artificer ot traud against 
all thcM-ules or architecuire ;-he lays his ornamental work first, and his 
massy fouudation at Ihe top of it ; and thus his whole building tumbles 
upon his head. Other people look well to their ground, choose their posi- 
tion and watch whether they are likely to be surprised there ; but he, as 



EIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAJST. 21 

if in the ostentation of his heart, builds upon a precipice, and encamps 
upon a mine, from choice. He seems to have no one actuating principle, 
but a steady, persevering resolution not to speak the truth or to tell the 
fact. 

" It is impossible almost to treat conduct of this kind with perfect seri- 
ousness ; yet I am aware that it ought to be more seriously accounted for 
— because I am sure it has been a scrt of paradox, which must have struck 
Your Lordships, how any person having so many motives to conceal — 
having so many reasons to dread detection -should yet go to work so 
clumsily upon the subject. It is possible, indeed, that it may raise this 
doubt — whether such a person is of sound mind enough to be a proper 
object of punishment ; or at least it may give a kind of confused notion, 
that the guilt cannot be of so deep and black a grain, over which such a 
thin veil was thrown, and so little trouble taken to avoid detection. I am 
aware that, to account for this seeming paradox, historians, poets, and 
even philosophers— at least of ancient times— have adopted the supersti- 
tious solution of the vulgar, and said that the gods deprive men of reason 
whom they devote to destruction or to punishment. But to unassuming 
or unprejudiced reason, there is no need to resort to any supposed super- 
natural interference ; for the solution will be found in the eternal rule? 
that formed the mind of man, and gave a quality and nature to every pas- 
sion that inhabits in it. 

" An Honorable friend of mine, who is now, I believe, near me, — a gen- 
tleman, to whom I never can on any occasion refer without feelings of res- 
pect, and, on this subject, without feelings of the most grateful homage ; 
—a gentleman, whose abilities upon this occasion, as upon some former 
ones, happily for the glory of the age in which we live, are not entrusted 
merely to the perishable eloquence of the day, but will live to be the ad- 
miration of that hour when all of us are mute, and most of us forgotten ;— 
that Honor-able gentleman has told you that Prudence, the first of virtues, 
never can be used in the cause of vice. If, reluctant and diffident, I might 
take such a liberty, I should express a doubt, whether experience, obser- 
vation, or history, will warrant us in fully assenting to this observation. It 
is a noble and a lovely sentiment, my Lords, worthy the mind of him who 
uttered it, worthy that proud disdain, that generous scorn of the means and 
instruments of vice, which virtue and genius must ever feel. But I should 
doubt whether we can read the history of a Philip of ]\[acedon, a Ca?sar,or 
a Cromwell, without confessing, that there have been evil purposes, bane- 
ful to the peace and to the rights of men, conducted— if I may not say, with 
nrudence or with wisdom— yet with awful craft and most successful and 
commanding subtlety. If, however, I might make a distinction, I should 
Bay that it is the proud attempt to mix a variety of lordly crime.«, that un- 
«»eta<js the prudence of the mind, and breeds this distraction of vho brain. 



22 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

One master-passion, domineering in the breast, may win the faculties of 
the understanding to advance its purpose, and to direct to that object every 
thing that thought or human knowledge can effect ; but, to succeed, it must 
maintain a solitary despotism in the mind ; — each rival profligacy must 
stand aloof, or wait in abject vassalage upon its throne. For, the Pow^r, 
that has not forbad the entrance of evil passions into man's mind, has, at 
least, forbad their union ; — if they meet they defeat their object, and their 
conquest, or their attempt at it, is tumult. Turn to the Virtues — how dif- 
ferent the decree ! Formed to connect, to blend, to associate, and to co- 
operate ; bearing the same course, with kindred energies and harmonious 
sympathy, each perfect in its own lovely sphere, each moving in its wider 
or more contracted orbit, with different, but concentering, powers, guided 
by the same influence of reason, and endeavoring at the same blessed end 
— the happiness of the individual, the harmony of the species, and the glory 
of the Creator. In the Vices, on the other hand, it is the discord that in- 
sures the defeat — each clamors to be heard in its own barbarous language ; 
each claims the exclusive cunning of the brain ; each thwarts and reproaches 
the other ; and even while their fell rage assails with common hate the 
peace and virtue of the world, the civil war among their own tumultuous 
legions defeats the purpose of the foul conspiracy. These are the Furies 
of the mind, my Lords, that unsettle the understanding ; these are the 
Furies, that destroy the virtue, Prudence, — while the distracted brain and 
shivered intellect proclaim the tumult that is within, and bear their testi- 
monies, from the mouth of God himself, to the foul condition of the heart.'' 

The part of the Speech which occupied the Third Day (and 
which was interrupted by the sudden indisposition of Mr. Sheri- 
dan) consists chiefly of comments upon the affidavits taken be- 
fore Sir Elijah Impey, — in which the irrelevance and inconsist- 
ency of these documents is shrewdly exposed, and the dryness 
of detail, inseparable from such a task, enlivened by those light 
touches of conversational humor, and all that by-play of elo- 
quence of which Mr. Sheridan was such a consummate master. 
But it was on the Fourth Day of the oration that he rose into 
his most ambitious flights, and produced some of those dazzling 
bursts of declamation, of which the traditional fame is most viv- 
idly preserved. Among the audience of that day was Gibbon, 
and the mention of his name in the following passage not only 
produced its effect at the moment, but, as connected with literary 
anecdote, will make the passage itself long memorable. Poli- 



RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 23 

tics are of the day, but literature is of all time — and, though it 
was in the power of the orator, in his brief moment of triumph, 
to throw a lustre over the historian by a passing epithet,"^ the 
name of the latter will, at the long run, pay back the honor with 
interest. Having reprobated the violence and perfidy of the 
Governor-General, in forcing the Nabob to plunder his own re- 
latives and friends, he adds : — 

*' I do say, that if you search the history of the world, you will not find 
an act of tyranny and fraud to surpass this ; if you read all past histories, 
peruse the Annals of Tacitus, read the luminous page of Gibbon, and all 
the ancient and modern writers, that have searched into the depravity of 
former ages to draw a lesson for the present, you will not find an act of 
treacherous, deliberate, cool cruelty that could exceed this." 

On being asked by some honest brother Whig, at the conclu- 
sion of the Speech, how he came to compliment Gibbon with 
the epithet " luminous," Sheridan answered in a half whisper, " I 
said ' 2;oluminous.' " 

It is well known that the simile of the vulture and the lamb, 
which occurs in the address of Rolla to the Peruvians, had been 
previously employed by Mr. Sheridan, in this speech ; and it 
showed a degree of indifference to criticism, — which criticism, 
it must be owned, not unfrequently deserves, — to reproduce be- 
fore the public an image, so notorious both from its application 
and its success. But, called upon, as he was, to lev}^, for the use 
of that Drama, a hasty conscription of phrases and images, aP 
of a certain altitude and pomp, this veteran simile, he thought, 
might be pressed into the service among the rest. The passage 
of the Speech in which it occurs is left imperfect in the Re- 
port : — 

" This is the character of all the protection ever afforded to the allies of 
Britain under the government of Mr. Hastings. They send their troops to 

* Gibbon himself thought it an event worthy of record in his Memoirs. " Before my de- 
parture from England (he says), I was present at the august spectacle of Mr. Hastings's 
Trial in Westminster Hall. It was not my province to absolve or condemn the Governor 
o[ India ; but Mr. Sheridan's eloquence demanded my applause ; nor could I liear without 
fTTO'^^ion the personal compliment which he paid me in the presence of the British natioa. 
Prom this display of genius, which blazed four successive do vs." &c. fee 



24 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

drain the produce of industry, to seize all the treasures, wealth, and pro* 
perity of the country, and then they call it Protection ! — it is the protec- 
tion of the vulture to the lamb. * * * '? 

The following is his celebrated delineation of Filial Affection, 
to which referenc is more frequently made than to any other 
part of the Speech ; — though the gross inaccuracy of the printed 
Report has done its utmost to belie the reputation of the original 
passage, or rather has substituted a changeling to inherit its 
fame. 

" When I see in many of these letters the infirmities of age made a sub- 
ject of mockery and ridicule ; when I see the feelings of a son treated by 
Mr. Middleton as puerile and contemptible ; when I see an order given 
by Mr. Hasthigs to harden that son's heart, to choke the struggling nature 
in his bosom ; when I see them pointing to the son's name, and to his stand- 
ard while marching to oppress the mother, as to a banner that gives dignity, 
that gives a holy sanction and a reverence to their enterprise ; when I see 
and hear these things do'ie — when I hear them brought into three delibe- 
rate Defences set up against the Charges of the Commons— my Lords, I 
own I grow puzzled and confounded, and almost begin to doubt whether, 
where such a defence can be offered, it may not be tolerated. 

^' And yet. my Lords, how can I support the claim of filial love by argu- 
ment — much less the affection of a son to a mother — where love loses its 
awe. and veneration is mixed with tenderness ? What can I say upon 
such a subject, what can I do but repeat the ready truths which, with the 
quick impulse of the mind, must spring to the lins of every man on such a 
theme ? Filial love ! the morauty of instinct, the sacrament of nature and 
duty — or rather let me say it is miscalled a duty, for it flows from the heart 
without effort, and is its delight, its indulgence, its enjoyment. It is guid- 
ed, not by the slow dictates of reason ; it awaits not encouragement from 
reflection or from thought ; it asks no aid of memory ; it is an innate, but 
active, consciousness of having been the object of a thousand tender solici- 
tudes, a thousand waking watchful cares, of meek anxiety and patient sac- 
rifices, unremarked and unrequited by the object. It is a gratitude found- 
ed upon a conviction of obligations, not remembered, but the more bind- 
ing because not remembered, — because conferred before the tender reason 
could acknowledge, or the infant memory record them — a gratitude and 
affection, which no circumstances should subdue, and which few can 
strengthen ; a gratitude, in which even injury from the object, thougli it 
may blend regret, sbouhl never breed resentment ; an affection which can 
pe increased only by the decay of those to whom we owe it, and which is 



EIGHT HON. KICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 25 

then most fervent when the tremulous voice of age, resistless in its feeble- 
ness, inquires for the natural protector of its cold decline. 

'• If these are the general sentiments of man, what must he their de- 
pravity, what must be their degeneracy, who can blot out and erase from 
liie bosom the virtue that is deepest rooted in the human heart, and twined 
within the cords of life itself — aliens from nature, apostates from humanity ! 
And yet, if there is a crime more fell, more foul — if there is any tiling worse 
than a wilful persecutor of his mother — it is to see a deliberate, reasoning 
instigator and abettor to the deed : — this it is that shocks, disgusts, and 
appals the mind more than the other — to view, not a wilful parricide, but 
a parricide by compulsion, a miserable wretch, not actuated by the stub- 
born evils of his own worthless heart, not driven by the fury of his ovvu 
distracted brain, but lending his sacrilegious hand, without any malice of 
his own, to answer the abandoned purposes of the human fiends that have 
subdued his will ! — To condemn crimes like these, we need not talk of 
laws or of human rules — their foulness, their deformity does not depend 
upon local constitutions, upon human institutes or religious creeds : — they 
are crimes— and the persons who perpetrate them are monsters who violate 
the primitive condition, upon which the earth was given to man — they are 
guilty' by the general verdict of human kind.^' 

In some of the sarcasms we are reminded of the quaint con- 
ti asts of his dramatic style. Thus : — 

"I must also do credit to them whenever I see any thing like lenity in 
Mr. Middleton or his agent : — they do seem to admit here, that it was not 
worth while to commit a massacre for the discount of a small note of hand, 
and to put two thousand women and. children to death, in order to procure 
prompt payment." 

Of the length to which the language of crimination was car- 
ried, as well by Mr. Sheridan as by Mr. Burke, one example, out 
of many, will suffice. It cannot fail, however, to be remarked 
that, while the denunciations and invectives of Burke are filled 
throughout with a passionate earnestness, which leaves no doubt 
as to the sincerity of the hate and anger professed by him, — in 
Sheridan, whose nature was of a much gentler cast, the vehemence 
is evidently more in the words than in the feeling, the tone of 
indignation is theatrical and assumed, and the brightness of the 
flash seems to be moi-e considered than the destructiveness of the 
tire . — 

yoL. II. 8 



26 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

" It is this circumstance of deliberation and consciousness of his cruilt- - 
it is this that inflames the minds of those who watch his transactions, and 
roots out all pity for a person who could act under such an influence. We 
conceive of such tyrants as Caligula and Nero, bred up to tyranny and oi>- 
pression, having had no equals to control them — no moment for reflection 
— we conceive that^ if it could have been possible to seize the guilty profli- 
gates for a moment, you might bring conviction to their hearts and repent- 
ance to their minds. But when you see a cool, reasoning, deliberate 
tyrant — one who was not born and bred to arrogance, — who has been 
nursed in a mercantile line — who has l)een used to look round among his 
fellow-subjects — to transact business with his equals — to account for con- 
duct to his master, and, by that wise system of the Company, to detail all 
his transactions — who never could fly one moment from himself, but mu?t 
be obliged every night to sit down and hold up a glass to his own soul— 
who could never be blind to his deformity, and who must have brought his 
conscience not only to connive at but to approve of it — this it is that dis- 
tinguishes it from the worst cruelties, the worst enormities of those, who, 
born to tyranny, and finding no superior, no adviser, have gone to the last 
presumption that there were none above to control them hereafter. This 
is a circumstance that aggravates the whole of the guilt of the unfortunate 
gentleman we are now arraigning at your bar.'' 

We now come to the Peroration, in which, skilfully and with- 
out appearance of design, it is contrived that the same sort of 
appeal to the purity of British justice, with which the oration 
opened, should, like the repetition of a solemn strain of music, re- 
cur at its close, — leaving in the minds of the Judges a composed 
and concentrated feeling of the great public duty they had to 
perform, in deciding upon the arraignment of guilt brought be- 
fore them. The Court of Directors, it appeared, had ordered an 
inquiry into the conduct of the Begums, with a view to the res- 
titution of their property, if it should appear that the charges 
against them were unfounded ; but to this proceeding Mr. Hast- 
ings objected, on the ground that the Begums themselves had not 
called for such interference in their favor, and that it was incon- 
sistent with the " Majesty of Justice " to condescend to volunteer 
Her services. The pompous and Jesuitical style in which thia 
singular doctrine* is expressed, in a letter addressed by tho 

* "If nothing- (says Mr. Mil!) remained to stain the repulalicr of Mr. Hastings but t^p 



EIGHT HON'. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 27 

Governor-general to Mr. Macpherson, is thus ingeniously turned 
to account by the orator, in winding up his masterly statement 
to a close : — 

^ And now before I come to the last magnificent paragraph, let me call 
the attention of those who, possibly, think themselves capable of judging 
of the dignity and character of justice in this country ; — let me call the at- 
tention of those who. arrogantly perhaps, presume that they understand 
what the features, what the duties of justice are here and in India ; — let 
them learn a lesson from this great statesman, this enlarged, this liberal 
philosopher :- ' I hope I shall not depart from the simplicity of official lan- 
guage, in saying that the Majesty of Justice ought to be approached with 
solicitation, not descend to provoke or invite it, much less to debase itself 
by the suggestion of wrongs and the promise of redress, with the denun- 
ciation of punishment before trial, and even before accusation.' This is the 
exhortation which Mr. Hastings makes to his counsel. This is the character 

which he gives of British justice. 

****** 

" But I will ask Your Lordships, do you approve this representation ? Do 
you feel that this is the true image of Justice ? Is this the character of 
Brtish justice ? Are these her features ? Is this her countenance ? Is this 
her gait or her mien ? No, I think even now I hear you calling upon me 
to turn from this vile libel, this base caricature, this Indian pagod, formed 
by the hand of guilty and knavish tyranny, to dupe the heart of ignorance, 
— to turn from this deformed idol to the true Majesty of Justice here. 
Here, indeed, I see a different form, enthroned by the sovereign hand of 
Freedom, — awful without severity — commanding without pride — vigilant 
and active without restlessness or suspicion — searching and inquisitive 
without meanness or debasement — not arrogantly scorning to stoop to the 
voice of afflicted innocence, and in its loveliest attitude when bending to 
uplift the suppliant at its feet. 

" It is by the majesty, by the form of that Justice, that I do conjure and 
implore Your Lordships to give your minds to this great business ; that I 
exhort you to look, not so much to words, which may be denied or quib* 
bled away, but to the plain facts, — to weigh and consider the testimony ir. 
your own minds : we know the result must be inevitable. Let the truth 
appear and our cause is gained. It is this, I conjure Your Lordships, for 
your own honor, for the honor of the nation, for the honor of human na- 
ture, now entrusted to your care, — it is this duty that the Commons of 
■^gland, I'peaking through us, claims at your hands. 

irinniples avowed in this singular pleading, his character, among the friends of justi(59, 
i^uld be sufficiently determined," 



28 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

" They exhort you to it by every thing that calls sublimely upon the 
heart of man. by the Majesty of that Justice which this bold man has' li- 
belled, by the wide fame of your own tribunal, by the sacred pledge hy 
which you swear in the solemn hour of decision, knowing that that decision 
will then bring you the highest reward that ever blessed the heart of 
man, the consciousness of having done the greatest act of mercy for the 
world, that the earth has ever yet received from any hand but Heaven. — 
My Lords, I have done.'' 

Though I have selected some of the most remarkable passages 
of this Speech,* it would be unfair to judge of it even from these 
specimens. A Report, verbatim^ of any effective speech must 
always appear diffuse and ungraceful m the perusal. The very 
repetitions, the redundancy, the accumulation of epithets which 
gave force and momentum in the career of delivery, but weaken 
and encumber the march of the style, when read. There is, in- 
deed, the same sort of difference between a faithful short-hand 
Report, and those abridged and polished records which Burke 
has left us of his speeches, as there is between a cast taken di- 
rectly from the face, (where every line is accurately preserved, 
but all the blemishes and excrescences are in rigid preservation 
also,) and a model, over which the correcting hand has passed, 
and all that was minute or iuperfluous is generalized and softened 
away. 

Neither was it in such rhetorical passages as abound, perhaps, 
rather lavishly, in this Speech, that the chief strength of Mr. Sher- 
idan's talent lay. Good sense and wit were the great weapons 

* I had polecled many more, Imt must confess that they appeared to me, when in print, 
so little worthy of the reputation of the Speech, that I thoug-ht it would be, on the whole, 
more prudent to omit them. Even of the passages, here cited, I speak rather from my 
imuginaljon of what they must have been, llian from my actual feeling of what they are. 
The character, given of such Reports, 1;y Lord I/jiighborough, is, no doubt, but too just. 
On a motion made by Lord Stanhope, (April 29, 1794), that the short-hand writers, 
eiJiployed on Hastings's trial, should be summoned to the bar of the House, to read their 
minutes, Ix>rd Loughborough, in the course of his observations on ihe motion, said, 
" God forbid that ever their Lordships should call on the short-hand \\Titers to publizh their 
CJics > for, of all people, short-hand \\Titers were ever the farthest from correciness, and 
tnere were no man's words they ever heard that they again returned. They were in 
general ignorant, as acting mp^Jianically ; and by not considering the anteCident, and 
catching th.-. sound, and not the sense, they perverted l}ie sense of the speaker, and mad« 
ham appear as ignorant as iJiemselves." 



HIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 29 

of his oratory — shrewdness in detecting the weak points of an 
adversary, and infinite pov/ers of raillery in exposing it. These 
were faculties which he possessed in a greater degree than any 
of his contemporaries ; and so well did he himself know the 
st'^onghold of his powers, that it was but rarely, after this dis- 
play in Westminster Hall, that he was tempted to leave it for 
the higher flights of oratory, or to wander after Sense into that 
region of metaphor, where too often, like Angelica in the en- 
chanted palace of Atlante, she is sought for in vain.* His at- 
tempts, indeed, at the florid or figurative style, whether in his 
speeches or his writings, were seldom very successful. That 
luxuriance of fancy, which in Burke was natural and indigenous, 
was in him rather a forced and exotic growth. It is a remarkable 
proof of this diflference between them, that while, in the memo- 
randums of speeches left behind by Burke, we find, that the 
points of argument and business were those which he prepared, 
trusting to the ever ready wardrobe of his fancy for their adorn- 
ment, — in Mr. Sheridan's notes it is chiefly the decorative pas- 
saojes, that are worked up beforehand to their full polish; while 
on the resources of his good sense, ingenuity, and temper, he 
seems to have relied for the management of his reasonings and 
facts. Hence naturally it arises that the images of Burke, being 
called up on the instant, like spirits, to perform the bidding of 
his argument, minister to it throughout, with an almost co- 
ordinate agency ; while the figurative fancies of Sheridan, already 
prepared for the occasion, and brought forth to adorn, not assist, 
the business of the discourse, resemble rather those sprites which 
the magicians used to keep inclosed in phials, to be produced for a 
momentary enchantment, and then shut up again. 

In truth, the similes and illustrations of Burke form such an 
intimate, and often essential, part of his reasoning, that if the 
whole strength of the Samson does not lie in those luxuriant 
locks, it would at least be considerably diminished by their loss. 
Whereas, in the Speech of Mi*. Sherida]i, which we have just 
been considering, there is hardly one of the rhetorical ornaments 

* Curran used to say laughingly, " Wlien I can't talk sense, I talk metaphor." 



30 MEMOIRS OF THK LIFE OF THE 

that might not be detached, without, in any great degree, injuhilg 
the force of the general statement. Another consequence of tnis 
ditFerence be/tween them is observable in their respective modes 
of transition, from what may be called the business of a speech 
to its more generalized and rhetorical parts. When Sheridan 
rises, his elevation is not sufficiently prepared ; he starts abruptly 
and at once from the level of his statement, and sinks down into 
it again with the same suddenness. But Burke, whose imagin- 
ation never allows even business to subside into mere prose, 
sust<ains a pitch throughout which accustoms the mind to wonder, 
and, while it prepares us to accompany him in his boldest flights, 
makes us, even when he walks, still feel that he has wings : — 

" Meme quand V oiseau marche, on sent quHl a des ailesP 

The sincerity of the praises bestowed by Burke on the Speech 
of his brother Manager has sometimes been questioned, but upon 
no sufficient grounds. His zeal for the success of the Impeach- 
ment, no doubt, had a considerable share in the enthusiasm, with 
which this great effort in its favor filled him. It may be granted, 
too, that, in admiring the apostrophes that variegate this speech, 
he was, in some degree, enamored of a reflection of himself; 

" Cunctaque miratur, quibus est mirahilis ipse.^' 

He sees reflected there, in fainter liglit, 

All that combines to make himself so bright. 

But whatever mixture of other motives there may have been 
in the feeling, it is certain that his admiration of the Speech was 
real and unbounded. He is said to have exclaimed to Mr. Fox, 
during the delivery of some passages of it, " There, — that is the 
true style ; — something between poetry and prose, and better than 
either." The severer taste of Mr. Fox dissented, as might be 
expected, from this remark. He replied, that " he thought such 
a mixture was for the advantage of neither — as producing poetic 
prose, or, st 11 worse, prosaic poetry." It was, indeed, the opinion 
of Mr. Fox, that the impression made upon Burke by these 



RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRlxNTSLEY SHi^RlDAN. Si 

somewhat too theatrical tirades is observable in the change that 
subsequently took place in his own style of writing; and that the 
tlorid and less chastened taste which some persons discover in his 
later productions, may all be traced to the example of this speech, 
iluwever this may be, or whether there is really much difference, 
as to taste, betw^een the youthful and sparkling vision of the 
Queen of France in 1792, and the interview between the Angel 
and Lord Bathurst in 1775, it is surely a most unjust disparage- 
ment of the eloquence of Burke, to apply to it, at any time of 
his life, the epithet " flowery," — a designation only applicable to 
that ordinary ambition of style, whose chief display, by necessity, 
consists of ornament without thought, and pomp without sub- 
stance. A succession of bright images, clothed in simple, trans- 
parent language, — even when, as in Burke, they " crowd upon 
the aching sense " too dazzlingly, — should never be confounded 
with that mere verbal opulence of style, which mistakes the glare 
of words for the glitter of ideas, and, like the Helen of the 
sculptor Lysippus, makes finery supply the place of beauty. 
The figurative definition of eloquence in the Book of Proverbs 
— " Apples of gold in a net-w^ork of silver" — is peculiarly ap- 
plicable to that enshrinement of rich, solid thoughts in clear and 
shining language, which is the triumph of the imaginative class 
of winters and orators, — while, perhaps, the net-w^ork, ivithout the 
gold inclosed, is a type equally significant of w^iat is called 
" flowery " eloquence. 

It is also, I think, a mistake, however flattering to my country, 
to call the School of Oratory, to which Burke belongs, Irish. 
That Irishmen are naturally more gifted with those stores of 
fancy, from which the illumination of this high order of the art 
must be supplied, the names of Burke, Grattan, Sheridan, Curran, 
Canning, and Piimkett, abundantly testify. Yet had Lord Chat- 
ham, before any of these great speakers were heard, led the w^ay, 
ill the same animated and figured strain of oratory ;"* while ano- 

* His few noble sentences (.-n the privilege of the poor man's cottage are universally 
KnowR. There is also his l^aiiciful allusion to the confluence ol" ihoSaone and Rjione, Iho 
traditional reports of which vary, Ix^th as lo the exact lerms in which it was expressed, 
ana the persons to whom he applied it. Even Lord Orford does not seem lo have ascer- 



S2 MEMOIRS OP THE LIFE OF THE 

ther Englishman, Lord Bacon, by making Fancy the hand-maid 
of Philosophy, h^^d long since set an example of that union of 
the imaginative and the solid, which, both in writing and in speak- 
mg, forms the characteristic distinction of this school. 

The Speech of Mr. Sheridan in Westminster Hall, though so 
much inferior in the opinion of Mr. Fox and others, to that 
which he had delivered on the same subject in the House of 
Commons, seems to have produced, at the time, even a more 
lively and general sensation ; — possibly from the nature and 
nimierousness of the assembly before which it was spoken, and 
which counted among its multitude a number of that sex, wiiose 
lips are in general found to be the most rapid conductors of feme. 

But there was one of this sex, more immediately interested in 
his glory, w^ho seems to have felt it as women alone can feel. " I 
have delayed writing," says Mrs. Sheridan, in a letter to her sister- 
in-law, dated four days after the termination of the Speech, " till I 
could gratify myself and you by sending you the news of our dear 
Dick's triumph ! — of oar triumph I may call it ; for surely, no 
one, in the slightest degree connected with him, but must feel 
proud and happy. It is impossible, my dear woman, to convey 
to you the delight, the astonishment, the adoration, he has excited 
in the breasts of every class of people ! Every party-prejudice 
has been overcome by a display of genius, eloquence and good- 
ness, which no one with any thing like a heart about them, could 
have listened to without being the wiser and the better for the 
rest of their lives. What must mi/ feelings be! — you can only 
imagine. To tell you the truth, it is with some difficulty that I 
can ' let down my mind,' as Mr. Burke said afterwards, to talk or 
think on any other subject. But pleasure, too exquisite, becomes 
pain, and I am at this moment suffering for the delightful anxieties 
of last week." 

tained the latter point. To these may be added the following specimen : — " I don't inquire 
from what quarter the wind eometh, but whither it goelii ; and, if any nneasure tha» 
comes from the Right If norable Gentleman tends to the public good, my bark is ready." 
Of a different kind is thai grand passage, — " America, they tell me, has resisted — I re- 
joice to hear it," — w'lic'h Mr. Gratian used to pronounce finer llian anytiiing in Demos* 
thenes. 



felGHT EO:S. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. M 

It IS a most happy combination when the wife of a man of 
genius unites intellect enough to appreciate the talents of her 
liusband, with the quick, feminine sensibility, that can thus pas- 
sionately feel his success. Pliny tells us, that his Calpurnia, 
whenever he pleaded an important cause, had messengers ready 
to report to her every murmur of applause that he received ; 
and the poet Statins, in alluding to his own victories at the Al- 
banian Games, mentions the ''breathless kisses,'^ w^ith which his 
wife, Claudia, used to cover the triumphal garlands he brought 
home. Mrs. Sheridan may well take her place beside these 
Roman wives ; — and she had another resemblance to one of them, 
w^hich was no less womanly and attractive. Not only did Cal- 
purnia sympathize with the glory of her husband abroad, but she 
could also, like Mrs. Sheridan, add a charm to his talents at home, 
by setting his verses to music and singing them to her harp, — 
" with no instructor," adds Pliny, " but Love, v^ho is, after all, 
the best master." 

This letter of Mrs. Sheridan thus proceeds : — " You were per- 
haps alarmed by the account of S.'s illness in the papers ; but I 
have the pleasure to assure you he is now- perfectly well, and I 
hope by next week we shall be quietly settled in the country, 
and suffered to repose, in every sense of the w^ord ; for indeed 
we have, both of us, been in a constant state of agitation, of one 
kind or other, for some time back. 

" I am very glad to hear your father continues so well. Surely 
he must feel happy and proud of such a son. I take it for 
granted you see the newspapers : I assure you the accounts in ■ 
them are not exaggerated, and only echo the exclamation of ad- 
miration that is in every body's mouth. I make no excuse for 
dwelling on this subject: I know you will not find it tedious. 
God bless you — I am an invalid at present, and not able to write 
long letters." 

The agitation and want of repose, which Mrs. Sheridan here 
complains of, arose not only from the anxiety which she so 
deeply felt, for the success of this great public effort of her hus- 
band, but from the share which she herself had taken, in the la- 

VOL. II, 3" 



i)4 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF TUt 

bor and attention necessary to prepare him for it. The ni'nd of 
Sheridan being, from the circumstances of his education and I iff, 
but scantily informed upon all subjects for Nvhich reading is ne- 
cessary, required, of course, considerable training and feeding, 
before it could venture to grapple with any new or important 
task. He has been known to say frankly to his political friends, 
when invited to take part in some question that. depended upon 
authorities, " You know Tm an ignoramus — but here I am — in. 
struct me and Fll do my best." It is said that the stock of nu- 
merical lore, upon which he ventured to set up as the Aristar- 
chus of Mr. Pitt's financial plans, was the result of three weeks' 
hard study of arithmetic, to which he doomed himself, in the 
early part of his Parliamentary career, on the chance of being 
appointed, some time or other. Chancellor of the Exchequer. 
For financial display it must be owned that this was rather a 
crude preparation. But there are other subjects of oratory, 
on which the outpourings of information, newly acquired, may 
have a freshness and vivacity which it would be vain to expect, 
in the communication of knowledge that has lain long in the 
mind, and lost in circumstantial spirit what it has gained in gene- 
ral mellowness. They, indeed, who have been regularly disci 
plined in learning, may be not only too familiar with what they 
know to communicate it with much liveliness to others, but too 
apt also to rely upon the resources of the memory, and upon 
those cold outlines which it retains of knowledge w^hose details 
are faded. ^ The natural consequence of all this is that persons, the 
best furnished with general information, are often the most vague 
and unimpiessive on particular subjects ; while, on the contrary, 
an uninstructed man of genius, like Sheridan, who approaches a 
topic of importance for the first time, has not only the stimulus 
of ambition and curiosity to aid him in mastering its details, but 
the novelty of firct impressions to biMghten his general views of 
it — and, with a flxncy thus freshly excited, himself, is most sure 
to touch and rouse the imaginations of others. 

This was particularly the situation of Mr. Sheridan with re- 
spect to the history of Indian aflairs ; and there remain amon^? 



HiGHT HOK. RICiHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 3o 

his papers numerous proofs of the labor which his preparation 
for this arduous task cost not only himself but Mrs. Sheridan. 
Among others, there is a large pamphlet of Mr. Hastings, con- 
sisting of more than two hundred pages, copied out neatly in her 
writing, with some assistance from another female hand. The 
industry, indeed, of all around him was put in requisition for 
this great occasion — some, busy with the pen and scissors, 
making extracts — some pasting and stitching his scattered me- 
morandums in their places. So that there was hardly a single 
member of the family that could not boast of having contributed 
his share, to the mechanical construction of this speech. The 
pride of its success was, of course, equally participated; and 
Edwards, a favorite servant of Mr. Sheridan, who lived with 
him many years, was long celebrated for his professed imitation 
of the manner in which his master delivered (what seems to have 
struck Edwards as the finest part of the speech) his closing 
words, "My Lords, I have done!" 

The impeachment of Warren Hastings is one of those pa- 
geants in the drama of public life, which show how fleeting are 
the labors and triumphs of politicians — " what shadows they are, 
and what shadows they pursue." When we consider the im- 
portance which the great actors in that scene attached to it, — the 
grandeur with which their eloquence invested the cause, as one 
in which the liberties and rights of the whole human race were 
interested, — and then think how all that splendid array of Law 
and of talent has dwindled away, in the view of most persons at 
present, into an unworthy and harassing persecution of a meri- 
torious and successful statesman ; — how those passionate appeals 
to justice, those vehement denunciations of crime, which made 
the halls of Westminster and St. Stephen's ring with their 
echoes, are now coldly judged, through the medium of disfiguring 
Reports, and regarded, at the best, but as rhetorical efiusicns, in- 
debted to temper for their warmth, and to fancy for thel^ de 
tails; — w^hile so little was the reputation of the delinquent him- 
self even scorched by the bolts of eloquence thus launched at 
him, that a subsequent House of Commons thought themselves 



^6 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF TH:^ 

honored by his presence, and welcomed him with such cheers* as 
should reward only the friends and benefactors of freedom ; — 
when we reflect on this thankless result of so much labor and 
talent, it seems wonderful that there should still be found high 
and gifted spirits, to waste themselves away in such temporary 
struggles, and, like that spendthrift of genius, Sheridan, to dis- 
count their immortality, for the payment of fame in hand which 
these triumphs of the day secure to them. 

For this direction, however, which the current of opinion has 
taken, with regard to Mr. Hastings and his eloquent accusers, 
there are many very obvious reasons to be assigned. Suc- 
cess, as I have already remarked, was the dazzling 'talisman, 
which he waved in the eyes of his adversaries from the 
first, and which his friends have made use of to throw a 
splendor over his tyranny and injustice ever since. f Too often 
in the moral logic of this world, it matters but little what the 
premises of conduct may be, so the conclusion but turns out 
showy and prosperous. There is also, it must be owned, among 
the English, (as perhaps, among all free people,) a strong taste 
for the arbitrary, when they themselves are not to be the vic- 
tims of it, which invariably secures to such accomplished des- 
potisms, as that of Lord Strafford in Ireland, and Hastings in 
India, even a larger share of their admiration than they are, 
themselves, always willing to allow. 

The rhetorical exaggerations, in w^hich the Managers of the 
prosecution indulged, — Mr. Sheridan, from imagination, luxuri- 
ating in its own display, and Burke from the same cause, added 
to his overpowering autocracy of temper — were but too much 

* When called as a witness before the House, in 1813, on the subject of the renewal 
cf the East India Company's Charter. 

•f In the important article of Finance, however, for which he made so many sacrifices of 
humanity, even the justification of success was wanting to his measures. The following 
is the account given by tho Select Com.mittee of the House of Commons in 1810, of the 
elate in which India was left by his administration : — " The revenues had been absorbed ; 
the pay and allowances of loth the civil and military branches of the service were greatly 
in arrear ; the credit of the Company was extremely depressed ; and, added to all, the 
who'e system had fallen into such irregularity and confusion, that the real state ot afl'airs 
could not be ascertained till the conclusion of the vear 1785-6." — Third Eejport. 



RIGHT HOK. KICHARD BEINSLEy SHEKIDAN. 37 

calculated to throw suspicion on the cause in which they w^ere 
employed, and to produce a reaction in favor of the person whom 
they were meant to overwhelm. *' Rogo vos, Judlces, — Mr. Has- 
tins;s might well have said, — " si iste disertus est^ ideo me dani- 
naH oportet P* 

There are also, without doubt, considerable allowances to be 
made, for the difficult situations in which Mr. Hastings was 
placed, and those impulses to wrong which acted upon him from 
all sides — allowances w^hich w^ill have more or less weight with 
the judgment, according as it may be more or less fastidiously 
disposed, in letting excuses for rapine and oppression pass muster. 
The incessant and urgent demands of the Directors upon him for 
money may palliate, perhaps, the violence of those methods 
which he took to procure it for them ; and the obstruction to his 
policy which would have arisen from a strict observance of Trea- 
ties, may be admitted, by the same gentle casuistry, as an apology 
for his frequent infractions of them. 

Another consideration to be taken into account, in our estimate 
of the character of Mr. Hastings as a ruler, is that strong light 
of publicity, which the practice in India of carrying on the busi- 
ness of government by written documents threw on all the ma- 
chinery of his measures, deliberative as well as executive. These 
Minutes, indeed, form a record of fluctuation and inconsistency— 
not only on the part of the Governor-General, but of all the 
members of the government — a sort of v/eather-cock diary of 
opinions and principles, shifting with the interests or convenience 
of the moment,! which entirely takes away our respect even for 

* Seneca, Controvers. lib. iii. c. 19. 

f Instances of this, on the part of Mr. Hastings, are nuuiberless. In remarking upon 
his corrupt transfer of the management of the Nabob's household in 1778, the Directors 
say, " It is with equal surprise and concern that we observe this request introduced, and 
the Nabob's ostensible rights so solemnly asserted at this period hy our Governor-General ; 
because, on a late occasion, to serve a very different purpose, he has not scrupled to de- 
clare it as visible as the light of the sun, that the Nabob is a mere pageant, and without 
even the shadow of authority." On another transa'-lion in 17S1, Mr. Mill remarks : — *' It 
IS a curious moral speclach to compare Uie minnlts and letters of the Governor-General, 
when, at the beginning of the year 17S0, mainlainiug the propriety of condemning the 
Nabob to sustain the whole of the I'unlrn imjvised ujion him. and 'lis minutes and leUers 
maintaining the propriety of relievinu him from tiiose burthens in 1781. The argunienis 



38 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

success, when issuing out of such a chaos of self-contradicliou 
and shufflmg. It cannot be denied, however, that such a system 
of exposure — submitted, as it was in this case, to a still further 
scrutiny, under the bold, denuding hands of a Burke and a She- 
ridan — was a test to which the councils of few rulers could with 
impunity be brought. Where, indeed, is the statesman that 
could bear to have his obliquities thus chronicled ? or where is 
the Cabinet that would not shrink from such an inroad of light 
uito its recesses 1 

The undefined nature, too, of that power which the Company 
exercised m India, and the uncertain state of the Law, vibrating 
between the English and the Hindoo codes, left such tempting 
openings for mjustice as it was hardly possible to resist. With 
no public opinion to warn off authority from encroachment, and 
with the precedents set up by former rulers all pointing the 
wrong way, it would have been difficult, perhaps, for even more 
moderate men than Hastings, not occasionally to break bounds 
and go continually astray. 

To all these considerations in his favor is to be added the appa- 
rently triumphant fact, that his government was popular among 
the natives of India, and that his name is still remembered by 
them wdth gratitude and respect. 

Allowing Mr. Hastings, however, the full advantage of these 
and other strong pleas in his defence, it is yet impossible, for any 
real lover of justice and humanity, to read the plainest and least 
exaggerated history of his government,* without feeling deep 

and facts adduced on the one occasion, as well as the conclusion, are a flat contradiction 
to those exhibited on the other." 

* Nothing can be more partial and misleading than the coloring given to these trans- 
actions by Mr. NichoHs and other apologists of Hastings. For the view w.iich I have my- 
self taken of the whole case I am chiefly indebted to the able History of British India by 
Mr. Mill — wliose industrious research and clear analytical statements make him the most 
valuable authority that can be consulted on the subject. 

The mood of mind in which Mr. Xicholls listened to the proceedings of the Impeachment 
may be judged from the following declaration, which he has had the courage to promul- 
gate to the public : — "On this Cliarge (the Beguai Charge) Mr. Sheridan made a speech, 
which both sides of the House professed greatly to admire — for Mr. Pitt now openly ap- 
proved of ijie Impeachment. / ivill o:knoivledge, that 1 did not admire this speech of Mr. 
Sheridan,^ 



BIGHT HOX. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAX. 89 

indignation excited at almost every page of it. His predecessors 
haa, it is true, been guilty of wrongs as glaring — the treachery of 
Lora Clive to Omichund in 1757, and the abandonment of Ram- 
narain to Meer Causim under the administration of Mr. Vans It- 
tart, are stains upon the British character which no talents or 
glory can do away. There are precedents, indeed, to be found, 
through the annals of our Indian empire, for the formation of 
the most perfect code of tyranny, in every department, legis- 
lative, judicial, and executive, that ever entered into the dreams 
of intoxicated power. But, while the practice of Mr. Hastings 
was, at least, as tyrannical as that of his predecessors, the prin- 
ciples upon which he founded that practice were still more odious 
and unpardonable. In his manner, indeed, of defending himself 
he is his own worst accuser — as there is no outrage of power, 
no violation of faith, that might not be justified by the versatile 
and ambidextrous doctrines, the lessons of deceit and rules of 
rapine, which he so ably illustrated by his measures, and has so 
shamelessly recorded with his pen. 

Nothing but an early and deep initiation in the corrupting 
school of Indian politics could have produced the facility with 
which, as occasion required, he could belie his own recorded asser- 
tions, turn hostilely round upon his own expressed opinions, dis- 
claim the proxies which he himself had delegated, and, in short, 
e;et rid of all the inconveniences of personal identity, by never 
acknowledging himself to be bound by any engagement or 
opinion which himself had formed. To select the worst features 
of his Administration is no very easy task ; but the calculating 
cruelty with which he abetted the extermination of the Rii)hillas 
— his unjust and precipitate execution of Nuncomar, who had 
stood forth as his accuser, and, therefore, Ibecame his victim, — 
his violent aggression upon the Raja of Benares, and that com- 
bination of public and private rapacity, which is exhibited in the 
details of his conduct to the royal family of Oude; — these are 
acts, proved by the testimony of himself and his accomplices, 
from the disgrace of which no formal acquittal upon points of 
law can absolve him, and whose guilt the allowances of charity 



40 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

may extenuate, but never can remove. That the perpetrator of 
such deeds should have been popular among the natives of India 
only proves how low was the standard of justice, to which tne entire 
enor of our policy had accustomed them ; — but that a ruler of 
this character should be held up to admiration in England, is one 
of those anomalies with which England, more than any other 
nation, abounds, and only inclines us to wonder that the true 
worship of Liberty should so long have continued to flourish in a 
country, where such heresies to her sacred cause are found. 

I have dwelt so long upon the circumstances and nature of this 
Trial, not only on account of the conspicuous place which it occu. 
pies in the fore-ground of Mr. Sheridan's life, but because of that 
general interest which an observer of our Institutions must take 
in it, from the clearness with which it brought into view some of 
their best and worst features. While, on one side, we perceive 
the weight of the popular scale, in the lead taken, upon an occa- 
sion of such solemnity and importance, by two persons brouofht 
forward from the middle ranks of society into the very van of 
political distinction and influence, on the other hand, in the sym- 
pathy and favor extended by the Court to the practical assertor 
of despotic principles, we trace the prevalence of that feeling, 
which, since the commencement of the late King's reigD, has made 
the Throne the rallying point of all that are unfriendly to the 
cause of freedom. Again, in considering the conduct of the 
Crown Lawyers during the Trial — the narrow and irrational 
rules of evidence which they sought to establish — the uncon- 
stitutional control assumed by the Judges, over the decisions of 
the tribunal before which the cause was tried, and the refusal to 
communicate the reasons upon which those decisions were found- 
ed — above all, too, the legal opinions expressed on the great 
question relative to the abatement of an Impeachment by Dis- 
solution, in which almost the whole body of lawyers* took the 



* Among the rest, liOrd Erskine, wlio allowed his profession, on this occasion, to stand 
in the lighl of liis judgment. " As to a Nisi-prins lawyer (said Barke) giving an opinion on 
the duration of an Irnpeachmeul — as well might a rabhii, that breeds six limes a year 
pretend to know any thing of tlie gestation of an elephant." 



RIGHT H0^\ lUCHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 41 

wroDg, the pedantic, and the unstatesmanlike side of the ques- 
tion, — while in all these indications of the spirit of that profes- 
sion, and of its propensity to tie down the giant Truth, with its 
small threads of technicality and precedent, we perceive the dan- 
ger to be apprehended from the interference of such a spirit in 
politics, on the other side, arrayed against these petty tactics of 
the Forum, we see the broad banner of Constitutional Law, up- 
held alike by a Fox and a Pitt, a Sheridan and a Dundas, and 
find truth and good sense taking refuge from the equivocations 
of lawyers, in such consoling documents as the Report upon the 
Abuses of the Trial by Burke — a document which, if ever a re- 
form of the English law should be attempted, will stand as a 
great guiding light to the adventurers in that heroic enterprise. 

It has been frequently asserted, that on the evening of Mr. 
Sheridan's grand display in the House of Commons, The School 
for Scandal and the Duenna were acted at Coven t Garden and 
Drury Lane, and thus three great audiences were at the same 
moment amused, agitated, and, as it were, wielded by the intellect 
of one man. As this triple triumph of talent — this manifestation 
of the power of Genius to multiply itself, like an Indian god — 
was, in the instance of Sheridan, not only possible, but within the 
scope of a very easy arrangement, it is to be lamented that no 
such coincidence did actually take place, and that the ability to 
have achieved the miracle is all that can be with truth attributed 
tc him. From a careful examination of the play-biUs of tn3 
different theatres during this period, I have ascertained, with re- 
gret, that neither on the evening of the speech in the House 'A 
Commons, nor on any of the days of the oration in Westminster 
Hall, was there, either at Covent-Garden, Drury-Lane, or Hay- 
market theatres, any piece w^hatever of Mr. Sheridan's acted. 

The following passages of a letter from Miss Sheridan to her 
sister in Ireland, written w^hile on a visit with her brother in 
London, though referring to a later period of the Trial, may with- 
out impropriety be inserted here : — 

" Just as I received your letter yesterday, I was setting out for 



42 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

the Trial with ^Irs. Crewe and Mrs. Dixon. I was fortunate in my 
day, as I heard all the principal speakers — Mr. Barke I admired 
the least — Mr. Fox very much indeed. The subject in itself was 
not particularly interesting, as the debate turned merely on a point 
of law, but the earnestness of his manner and the amazing pre- 
cision with which he conveys his ideas is truly delightful. And 
last, not least, 1 heard my brother ! I cannot express to you the 
sensation of pleasure and pride that filled my heart at the mo- 
ment he rose. Had 1 never seen him or heard his name before, 
I should have conceived him the first man among them at once. 
There is a dignity and grace in his countenance and deportment, 
very striking — at the same time that one cannot trace the smal- 
lest degree of conscious superiority in his manner. His voice, 
too, appeared to me extremely fine. The speech itself was not 
much calculated to display the talents of an orator, as of course it 
related only to dry matter. You may suppose I am not so lavish 
of praises before indifferent persons, but I am sure you will ac- 
quit me of partiality in what I have said. When they left the 
Hall we walked about some time, and were joined by several of 
the managers — among the rest by Mr. Burke, whom we set down 
at his own house. They seem now to have better hopes of the 
business than they have had for some time ; as the point urged 
with so much force and apparent success relates to very material 
evidence which the Lords have refused to hear, but which, once 
produced, must prove strongly against Mr. Hastings ; and, from 
what passed yesterday, they think their Lordships must yield. 
—We sat in the King's box," (k>c. 



RIGHT UOX. RICHAKD BKINSLEY SHERIDAN". 4.3 



CHAPTER II. 
dii:ath of MR. Sheridan's father. — verses by mrs. sher 

IDAN ON THE DEATH OF HER SISTER, MRS. TICKELL. 

In the summer of this year the father of Mr. Sheridan died. 
He had been recommended to try the air of Lisbon for his 
health, and had left Dublin for that purpose, accompanied by 
his younger daughter. But the rapid increase of his malady 
prevented him from proceeding farther than Margate, where he 
died about the beginnmg of August, attended in his last moments 
by his son Richard. 

We have seen with what harshness, to use no stronger term, 
Mr. Sheridan was for many years treated by his father, and how 
persevering and affectionate were the eflbrts, in spite of many 
capricious repulses, that he made to be restored to forgiveness 
and favor. In his happiest moments, both of love and fame, the 
thought of being excluded from the paternal roof came across 
him with a chill that seemed to sadden all his triumph.* When 
it is considered, too, that the father, to whom he felt thus amiii- 
bly, had never distinguished him by any particular kindness, 
but, on the contrary, had always shown a marked preference for 
the disposition and abilities of his brother* Charles — it is impos- 
sible not to acknowledge, in such true final affection, a proof 
that talent was not the only ornament of Sheridan, and that, 
hoM ever unfavorable to moral culture was the life that he led, 
Nature, in forming his mind, had implanted there virtue, as 
web as genius. 

C)f ».he tender attention which he paid to his father on his 

* See ine lelier written by him irmiiediaiel v after his marriage, vol. i. page 80, and the 
auecUole in page 111, same vol 



44 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

death-bed, I am enabled to lay before the reader no less a testi- 
mony than the letters written at the time by Miss Sheridan, 
who, as I have already said, accompanied the old gentleman 
from Ireland, and now shared with her brother the task of com- 
forting his last moments. And here, — it is difficult even for 
contempt to keep down the indignation, that one cannot but fee] 
at those slanderers, under the name of biographers, who 'calling 
in malice to the aid of their ignorance, have not scrupled to as- 
sert that the father of Sheridan died unattended by any of his 
nearest relatives ! — Such are ever the marks that Dulness leaves 
behind, in its Gothic irruptions into the sanctuary of departed 
Genius — defacing what it cannot understand, polluting what it 
has not the soul to reverence, and taking revenge for its own 
darkness, by the wanton profanation of all that is sacred in the 
eyes of others. 

Immediately on the death of their father, Sheridan removed 
his sister to Deepden — a seat of the Duke of Norfolk in Surrey, 
which His Grace had lately lent him — and then returned, him- 
self, to Margate, to pay the last tribute to his father's remains. The 
letters of Miss Sheridan are addressed to her elder sister in Ireland, 
and the first which I shall give entire, was written a day or two 
after her arrival at Deepden. 

"My Dear Love, Dibdcn. August 18. 

" Though you have ever been u|)permost in my thoughts, 
yet it has not been in my power to write since the few lines I 
sent from Margate. I hope this will find you, in some degree, 
recovered from the shock you must have experieiiced from the 
late melancholy event. I trust to your own piety and the ten- 
derness of your worthy husband, for procuring you such a de- 
gree of calmness of mind as may secure your health from injury. 
In the midst of what I have sulfered I have been thankful that 
you did not share a scene of distress which you could not have 
relieved. I have supported myself, but I am sure, had we been 
together, we should have suffert^d more. 

" With regard to my brother's kindness, I can scarcely ex 



lliGHT HON. KICHARD BRINSLEY SHEIlIf>A^r. 45 

press to you how great it has been. He saw my father T^hile he 
was still sensible, and never quitted him till the awful moment was 
past — I will not now dwell on particulars. My mind is not suf- 
ficiently recovered to enter on the subject, and you could oniy 
be distressed by it. He returns soon to Margate to pay the 
last duties in the manner desired by my father. His feelings 
have been severely tried, and earnestly I pray he may not suf- 
fer from that cause, or from the fatigue he has endured. His 
tenderness to me I never . can forget. I had so little claim on 
him, that I still feel a degree of surprise mixed v/ith my grati- 
tude. Mrs. Sheridan's reception of me was truly affectionate. 
They leave me to myself now as much as I please, as I had gone 
through so much fatigue of body and mind that I require some 
rest. I have not, as you may suppose, looked much beyond the 
present hour, but I begin to be more composed. I could now 
enjoy your society, and I wish for it hourly. I should think I 
may hope to see you sooner in England than you had intended ; 
but you will write to me very soon, and let me know everything 
that concerns you. I know not whether you will feel like me a 
melancholy pleasure in the reflection that my father received the 
last kind offices from my brother Richard,* whose conduct on 
this occasion must convince every one of the goodness of his 
heart and the truth of his filial affection. One more reflection of 
consolation is, that nothing was omitted that could have prolonged 
his life or eased his latter hours. God bless and preserve you, my 
dear love. I shall soon write more to you, but shall for a short 
time suspend my journal, as still too many painful thoughts will 
crowd upon me to suffer me to regain such a frame of mind as I 
should wish when I write to you. 

" Ever affectionately your 

' ' " E. Sheridan." 



* In a letter, from which I have given an extract in tlie early part of this volume, wiit- 
teu by the elder sister of Sheridan a short tipie after his death, in referring to iJie differ- 
ences that existed between him and his father, she says — " and yet it was tlial son, and 
not the object of his partial fondness, who at last closed his eyes." It generally hap- 
pens that the uijustice of siivii parualilies is revenged by tlie ingratitude of tliose wno are 



46 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

lu another letter, dated a few days after, she gives an account 
of the domestic life of Mrs. Sheridan, which, like everything that 
is related of that most interesting woman, excites a feeling to- 
wards her memory, little short of love. 

" My Dear Love, Dihden, Fridaijy 22, 

" I shall endeavor to resume my journal, though my anxiety 
to hear from you occupies my mind in a way that unfits me for 
writing. I have been here almost a week in perfect quiet. 
While there was company in the house, I stayed in my room, 
and since my brother's leaving us to go to Margate, I have sat 
at times with Mrs. Sheridan, who is kind and considerate ; so that 
I have entire liberty. Her poor sister's* children are all with 
her. The girl gives her constant employment, and seems to 
profit by being under so good an instructor. Their father w^as 
here for some days, but I did not see him. Last night Mrs S. 
showed me a picture of Mrs. Tick ell, ^vhich she wears round 
her neck. The thing was misrepresented to you ; — it was not 
done after her death, but a short time before it. The sketch 
was taken while she slept, by a painter at Bristol. This Mrs. 
Sheridan got copied by Cos way, who has softened down the tra- 
ces of illness in such a way that the picture conveys no gloomy 
idea. It represents her in a sweet sleep ; w^hich must have been 
soothing to her friend, after seeing her for a length of time in a 
state of constant suffering. 

" My brother left us Wednesday mxorning, and we do not ex 
pect him to return for some days. He meant only to stay at 
Margate long enough to attend the last melancholy office, which 
it was my poor fixther's express desire should be performed in 
whatever parish he died. 

* ^ * * * * * 

** Sunday, 
" Dick is still in town, and we do not expect him for some 
time. Mrs. Sheridan seems now quite reconciled to these little 

Jie objects of them : and The present instance, as there is but toe much reason to believe, 
was not altogether an exception to the remark. 
♦Mrs. Tjckeli. 



.HlGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAK. 'i1 

absences, which she knows are unavoidable. 1 never saw any one 
so constant in employing every moment of her time, and to that 
I attribute, in a great measure, the recovery of her health and 
spirits. The education of her niece, her music, books, and work, 
occupy every minute of the day. After dinner, the children, who 
call her '* Mamma-aunt," spend some time with us, and her man- 
ner to them is truly delightful. The girl, you know, is the eldest. 
The eldest boy is about five years old, very like his father, but 
extremely gentle in his manners. The youngest is past three. 
The whole set then retire to the music-room. As yet I cannot 
enjoy their parties ; — a song from Mrs. Sheridan affected me last 
night in a most painful manner. I shall not try the experiment 
soon again. Mrs. S. blamed herself for putting me to the trial, 
and, afVer tea, got a book, which she read to us till supper. This, 
I find, IS tne general w^ay of passing the evening. 

" They are now at their music, and I have retired to add a few 
lines. This day has been more gloomy than we have been for 
sonae days past ; — it it the first day of our getting into mourning. 
All the servants in deep mourning made a melancholy appear- 
ance, and I found it very difficult to sit out the dinner. But as 
I have dined below since there has been only Mrs. Sheridan and 
Miss Linley here, I would not sutfer a circumstance, to which I 
must accustom myself, to break in on their comfort." 

These children, to whom Mrs. Sheridan thus wholly devoted 
herself, and continued to do so for the remainder of her life, had 
lost their mother, Mrs. Tickell, in the year 1787, by the same 
complaint that afterwards proved fatal to their aunt. The pas- 
sionate attachment of Mrs. Sheridan to this sister, and the deep 
grief w^ith whJch she mourned her loss, are expressed in a poem 
of her own so touchingly, that, to those who love the language of 
real feeling, 1 need not apologize for their introduction here. Poe- 
try, in general, is but a cold interpreter of sorrow ; and the more 
it displays its skill, as an art, the less is it likely to do justice to 
nature. In wanting these verses, however, the w^orkmanship was 
forgotten in the subject ; and the critic, to feel them as he ought, 
should forget his ow^n craft in reading them. 



48 • MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF TMS 



" Written in the Spring of the Year 1788. 

" The hours and days pass on ; — sw^et Spring returua. 
And whispers comfort to the heart that mourns : 
But not to mine, y/hose dear and cherish'd grief 
Asks for indulgence, but ne'er hopes relief. 
For, ah. can changing seasons e'er restore 
The lov'd companion I must still deplore 2 
Shall all the wisdom of the world combined 
Ei'ase thy image, Mary, from my mind, 
Or bid me hope from others to receive 
The fond affection thou alone could'st give,-?, 
Ah, no, my best belov'd. thou still shalt be ' 
My friend, my sister, all the world to me. 

^' With tender woe sad memory woos back time, 
And paints the scenes when youth was in its prime ; 
The craggy hill, where rocks, with wild flow'rs crowo d 
Burst from the hazle copse or verdant ground ; 
Where sportive nature every form assumes, 
And, gaily lavish, wastes a thousand blooms ; 
Where oft we heard the echoing hills repeat 
Our untaught strains and rural ditties sweet. 
Till purpling clouds proclaim'd the closing day, 
While distant streams detain *d the parting ray. 
Then on some mossy stone we'd sit us down. 
And watch the changing sky and shadows browB, 
That swiftly glided o'er the mead below, 
Or in some fancied form descended slow. 
How oft, well pleas'd each other to adorn, 
We stripped the blossoms from the fragrant thorn. 
Or caught the violet where, in humble bed, 
Asham'd of its own sweets it hung its head. 
But, oh, what rapture Mary's eyes would speak, 
Through her dark hair how rosy glow'd her cheek. 
If, in her playful search, she saw appear 
The first-blown cowslip of the opening year. 
Thy gales, oh Spring, then whisper'd life and joy :— 
Now mem'ry wakes thy pleasures to destroy, 
And all thy beauties serve but to renew 
Regrets too keen for reason to subdue. 
Ah me ! while tender recollections rise, 
The ready tears obscure my sadden'd eyes, 



iilGHT HOJ^. UlCllAKD i^RINSLE^ SHERlDAK 49 

And, while surrounding objects they conceal, 
Her form belov'd the trembling drops reveal. 

*' Sometimes the lovely, blooming girl I view, 
My youth's companion, friend for ever true. 
Whose looks, the sweet expressions of her heart 
So gaily innocent, so void of art, 
With soft attraction whi.sper'd blessings drew 
From all who stopp'd, her beauteous face to view. 
Then in the dear domestic scene I mourn. 
And weep past pleasures never to return ! 
There, where each gentle virtue lov'd to rest, 
In the pure mansion of my Mary's breast, 
The days of social happiness are o'er. 
The voice of harmony is heard no more ; 
No more her graceful tenderness shall prove 
The wife's fond duty or the parent's love. 
Those eyes, which brighten'd with maternal pride, 
As her sweet infants wanton'd by her side, 
1 was my sad fate to see for ever close 
On life, on love, the world, and all its woes ; 
To watch the slow disease, with hopeless care. 
And veil in painful smiles my heart's despair ; 
7t see her droop, with restless languor weak, 
While fatal beauty mantled in her cheek. 
Like fresh flow'rs springing from some mouldering clay, 
Cherish'd by death, and blooming from decay. 
Ye^, tho' oppress'd by ever-varying pain, 
The gentle sufi'erer scarcely would complain. 
Hid avery sigh, each trembling doubt reprov'd, 
To spare a pang to those fond hearts she lov'd. 
A.nd often, in short intervals of ease. 
Her kind and cheerful spirit strove to please ; 
Whilst we^. alas, unable to refuse 
The sad delight we were so soon to lose, 
Treasur'd each word, each kind expression claim'd, — 
* 'Twas me she look'd at,' — * it was me she nam'd.' 
Thutf xOndly soothing grief, too great to bear, 
With mournful eagerness and jealous care. 

" But soon, alas, from hearts with sorrow worn 
E'en this last comfort was for ever torn • 
That mind, the seat of wisdom, genius, tane, 
The cruel hand of sickness now laid waste ; 

SOU II. ^ 



oO MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THfi 

Subdued with pain, it shared the common lot, 

All, all its lovely energies forgot 1 

The husband, parent, sister, knelt in vain, 

One recollecting look alone to gain : 

The shades of night her beaming eyes obscur'd, 

And Nature, vanqulsh'd, no sharp pain endur'd ; 

Calm and serene — till the last trembling breath 

Wafted an angel from the bed of death ! 

" Oh, if the soul, released from mortal cares. 
Views the sad scene, the voice of mourning hears. 
Then, dearest saint, didst thou thy heav'n forego, 
Lingering on earth in pity to our'woe. 
'Twas thy kind influence sooth'd our minds to peace 
And bade our vain and selfish murmurs cease ; 
'Twas thy soft smile, that gave the w^orshipp'd clay 
Of thy bright essence one celestial ray, 
Making e'en death so beautiful, that we, 
Gazing on it, forgot our misery. 
Then — pleasing thought ! — ere to the realms of lij;t 
Thy franchis'd spirit took its happy flight, 
With fond regard, perhaps, thou saw'st me bend 
O'er the cold relics of my heart't best friend, 
And heard'st me swear, while her dear hand I presv 
And tears of agony bedew'd my breast, 
For her lov'd sake to act the mother's part, 
And take her darling infants to my heart. 
With tenderest care their youthful minds improve. 
And guard her treasure with protecting love. 
Once more look down, blest creature, and behold 
These arms the precious innocence enfold ; 
Assist my erring nature to fulfil 
The sacred trust, and ward off every ill ! 
And, oh, let her^ who is my dearest care. 
Thy blest regard and heavenly influence share • 
Teach me to form her pure and artless mind, 
Like thine, as true, as innocent, as kind, — 
That when some fatiire day my hopes shall blesa. 
And every voice her virtue shall confess, 
When my fond heart delighted hears her praise. 
As with unconscioui^ loveliness she strays, 

* Such,' let me say, with tears of joy the while* 

* Such was the softness of my Mary's smile ; 



RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 51 

Such was her jouth, so blithe, so rosy sweet, 
And such her mind, unpractised in deceit ; 
With artless elegance, unstudied gi'ace, 
Thus did she gain in every heart a place !' 

*' Then, while the dear remembrance I behold, 
Time shall steal on, nor tell me I am old. 
Till, nature wearied, each fond duty o'er, 
I join my Angel Friend — to part no more !" 

To the conduct of Mr. Sheridan, during the last moments of his 
father, a further testimony has been kindly communicated to me 
by Mr. Jarvis, a medical gentleman of Margate, who attended 
Mr. Thomas Sheridan on that occasion, and whose mteresting 
communication I shall here give in his own words : — 

" On the 10th of August, 1788, I was first called on to visit 
Mr. Sheridan, \vho was then fast declining at his lodgings in this 
place, w here he was in the care of his daughter. On the next 
day Mr. E. B. Sheridan arrived here from town, having brought 
with him Dr. Morris, of Parliament street. I was in the bed- 
room with Mr. Sheridan when the son arrived, and witnessed an 
interview in which the father showed himself to be strongly im- 
pressed by his son's attention, saying with considerable emotion, 
' Oh Dick, I give you a great deal of trouble !' and seeming to 
imply by his manner, that his son had been less to blame than 
himself, for any previous want of cordiality between them. 

" On my making my last call for the evening, Mr. R. B. Sher- 
idan, with delicacy, but much earnestness, expressed his fear that 
the nurse in attendance on his father, might not be so competent 
as myself to the requisite attentions, and his hope that I would 
consent to remain in the room for a few of the first hours of the 
night ; as he himself, having been travelling the preceding night, 
required some short repose. I complied with his request, and 
remained at the father's bed-side till relieved by the son, about 
three o'clock in the morning : — he then insisted on taking my 
place. From this time he never quitted the house till his father's 
death ; on the day after which he wrote me a letter, now before 
me, of which the annexed is an exact copy : 



62 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF l^HE 

' Sir, Friday Morning. 

' I wished to see you this morning before I went, to thank you 
for your attention and trouble. You will be so good to give the 
account to Mr. Thompson, who will settle it ; and I must further 
beg your acceptance of the inclosed from myself. 

' I am. Sir, 

' Your obedient Servant, 

'R. B. Sheridan. 

' I have explained to Dr. Morris (who has informed me that you 
will recommend a proper person), that it is my desire to have 
the hearse, and the manner of coming to town, as respectful as 
possible.' 

" The inclosure, referred to in this letter, was a bank-note of ten 
pounds, — a most liberal remuneration. Mr. R. B. Sheridan left 
Margate, intending that his father should be buried in London ; 
but he there ascertained that it had been his father's expressed 
wish that he should be buried in the parish next to that in which 
he should happen to die. He then, consequently, returned to 
Margate, accompanied by his brother-in-law, Mr. Tickell, with 
whom and Mr. Thompson and myself, he followed his father's 
remains to the burial-place, which was not in Margate church-yard, 
but in the north aisle of the church of St. Peter's." 

Mr. Jar vis, the writer of the letter from which I have given 
this extract, had once, as he informs me, the intention of having 
a cenotaph raised, to the memory of Mr. Sheridan's father, in 
the church of Margate.* With this view he applied to Dr. Parr 
for an Inscription, and the following is the tribute to his old 
friend with which that learned and kind-hearted man supplied 
him : — 

^' This monument, A. D. 1824, was, by subscription, erected to tLe memo- 
ry of Thomas Sheridan, Esq., who died in the neighboring parish of St. 

* Though this idea was relinquished, it appears that a friend of Mr. Jarvis, with a zeal 
for the memory of talent highly lionorable to him, has recently caused a monument to 
Mr. Thomas Sheridan to be raised in the church of St. Peter. 



RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 53 

John, August 14, 1788, in the 69th year of his age, and, according to hig 
own request, was there buried. He was grandson to Dr. Thomas Sheridan, 
the brother of Dr. William, a conscientious non-juror, who, in 1691, was 
deprived of the Bishopric of Kilmore. He was the son of Dr. Thomas 
Sheridan, a profound scholar and eminent schoolmaster, intimately connect- 
ed with Dean Swift and other illustrious writers in the reign of Queen 
Anne. He was husband to the ingenious and amiable author of Sidney 
Biddulph and several dramatic pieces favorably received. He was father 
of the celebrated orator and dramatist, Richard Brinsley Sheridan. He 
had been the schoolfellow, and, through life, was the companion, of the 
amiable Archbishop Markham. He was the friend of the learned Dr. Sum- 
ner, master of Harrow School, and the well-known Dr. Parr. He took his 
first academical degree in the University of Dublin, about 1736. He was 
honored by the University of Oxford with the degree of A. M. in 1758, 
and in 1759 he obtained the same distinction at Cambridge. He, for many 
years, presided over the theatre of Dublin ; and, at Drury Lane, he in public 
estimation stood next to David Garrick. In the literary world he was dis- 
tinguished by numerous and useful writings on the pronunciation of the 
English language. Through some of his opinions ran a vein of singularity, 
mingled with the rich ore of genius. In his manners there was dignified 
ease ; — in his spirit, invincible firmness ; — and in his habits and principles 
unsuUied integrity.'^ 



54 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 



CHAPTER III. 

ILLNESS OF THE KING. — REGENCY. — PRIVATE LIFE OF MR. 

SHERIDAN. 

Mr. Sheridan had assuredly no reason to complain of any 
deficiency of excitement in the new career to which he now devot- 
ed himself. A succession of great questions, both foreign and 
domestic, came, one after the other, like the waves described by 
the poet, — 

" And one no sooner touched the shore, and died, 
Than a new follower rose, and swell'd as proudly." 

Scarcely had the impulse, which his own genius had given to 
the prosecution of Hastings, begun to abate, when tne indisposi- 
tion of the King opened another field, not only for the display of 
all his various powers, but for the fondest speculations of his in- 
terest and ambition. 

The robust health and temperate habits of the Monarch, while 
they held out the temptation of a long lease of power, to those 
who either enjoyed or were inclined to speculate in his favor, 
gave proportionably the grace of disinterestedness to the follow- 
ers of an HeirApparent, whose means of rewarding their devo- 
tion were, from the same causes, uncertain and remote. The 
alarming illness of the Monarch, however, gave a new turn to the 
prospect : — Hope was now seen, like the winged Victory of the 
ancients, to change sides ; and both the expectations of those who 
looked forward to the reign of the Prince, as the great and happy 
millennium of Whiggism, and the apprehensions of the far 
greater number, to whom the morals of his Royal Highness and 
his friends were not less formidable than their politics, seemed 
I^ow on the verv eve of being realized, 



RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 55 

On the first meeting of Parliament, after the illness of His 
Majesty was known, it was resolved, from considerations of deli- 
cacy, that the House should adjourn for a fortnight ; at the end 
of which period it was expected that another short adjournment 
would be proposed by the Minister. In this interval, the fol- 
lowing judicious letter was addressed to the Prince of Wales by 
Mr. Sheridan : — 

" From the intelligence of to-day we are led to think that Pitt 
will make something more of a speech, in moving to adjourn on 
Thursday, than was at first imagined. In this case we presume 
Your Royal Highness will be of opinion that we must not be 
wholly silent. I possessed Payne yesterday with my sentiments 
on the line of conduct which appeared to me best to be adopted 
on this occasion, that they might be submitted to Your Royal 
Highness's consideration ; and I take the liberty of repeating my 
firm conviction, that it w^ill greatly advance Your Royal High- 
ness's credit, and, in case of events, lay the strongest grounds to 
baffle every attempt at opposition to Your Royal Highness's just 
claims and right, that the language of those who may be, in any 
sort, suspected of knowing Your Royal Highness's wishes and 
feelings, should be that of great moderation m disclaiming all 
party views, and avowing the utmost readiness to acquiesce in 
any reasonable delay. At the same time, I am perfectly aware 
of the arts which will be practised, and the advantages which 
some people will attempt to gain by time : but I am equally con- 
vinced that we should advance their evil views by showing the 
least impatience or suspicion at present ; and I am also convinced 
that a third party will soon appear, whose efforts may, in the 
most decisive manner, prevent this sort of situation and proceed- 
ing from continuing long. Payne will probably have submitted ^ 
to Your Royal Highness more fully my idea on this subject, 
towards which I have already taken some successful steps.* 
Your Royal Highness will, I am sure, have the goodness to par- 

* This must allude to the negotiation with Ix)rd Thurlpw, 



56 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

don the freedom with which I give my opinion ; — after which 1 
have only to add, that whatever Your Royal Highness's judgment 
decides, shall be the guide of my conduct, and will undoubtedly 
be so to others." 

Captain (afterwards Admiral) Payne, of whom mention is 
made in this letter, held the situation of Comptroller of the 
Household of the Prince of Wales, and was in attendance upon 
His Royal Highness, during the early part of the King's illness, at 
Windsor. The following letters, addressed by him to Mr. She- 
ridan at this period, contain some curious particulars, both with 
respect to the Royal patient himself, and the feelings of those 
about him, which, however secret and confidential they were at 
the time, may now, without scruple, be made matters of his- 
tory :— 

" My dear Sheridan, Half past ten at night, 

" I arrived here about three quarters of an hour after Pitt had 
left it. I inclose you the copy of a letter the Prince has just 
written to the Chancellor, and sent by express, which will give 
you the outline of the conversation with the Prince, as well as 
the situation of the Kino-'s health. I think it an advisable mea- 
sure,* as it is a sword that cuts both ways, without being unfit to 
be shown to whom he pleases, — but which he will, I think, under- 
stand best himself. Pitt desired the longest delay that could be 
granted with propriety, previous to the declaration of the pre- 
sent calamity. The Duke of York, who is looking over me, and 
is just come out of the King's room, bids me add that His 
Majesty's situation is every moment becoming worse. His pulse 
is weaker and weaker ; and the Doctors say it is impossible to 
survive it long, if his situation does not take some extraordinary 
^change in a few hours. 

" So far I had got when your servant came, meaning to send 
this by the express that carried the Chancellor's letter ; in addi- 
tion to which, the Prince has desired Doctor Warren to write an 

lileairiing, the comraunicalion lo the Chancellor. 



RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 57 

account to him, which he is now doing. His letter says, if an 
amendment does not take place in twenty four hours, it is impos- 
sible for the King to support it : — he adds to me, he will answer 
for his never living to be declared a lunatic. I say all this to 
you in confidence, (though I will not answer for being intelligi- 
ble,) as it goes by your own servant ; but I need not add, your 
own discretion will remind you how necessary it is that neither 
my name nor those I use should be quoted even to many of our 
best friends, whose repetition, without any ill intention, might 
frustrate views they do not see. 

" With respect to the papers, the Prince thinks you had better 
leave them to themselves, as we cannot authorize any report, 
nor can he contradict the worst ; a few hours must, every indi- 
vidual says, terminate our suspense, and, therefore, all precaution 
must be needless : — however, do what you think best. His Roy- 
al Highness would write to you himself; the agitation he is in 
will not permit it. Since this letter was begun, all articulation 
even seems to be at an end with the poor King : but for the 
two hours precedi;ig, he was in a most determined frenzy. In 
short, I am myself in so violent a state of agitation, fi^om partici- 
pating in the feelings of those about me, that if I am intelligible 
to you, 'tis more than I am to myself. Cataplasms are on his 
Majesty's feet, and strong fomentations have been used without 
effect : but let me quit so painful a subject. The Prince was 
much pleased with my conversation with Lord Loughborough, 
to whom I do not write, as I conceive 'tis the same, writing to 
you. 

" The Archbishop has written a very handsome letter, expres- 
sive of his duty and offer of service; but he is not required to 
come down, it being thought too late. 

" Good night. — I will write upon every occasion that infor- 
mation may be useful. 

" Ever yours, most sincerely, 

" J. W. Payne. 

" I have been much pleased with the Dukes zeal since my re- 
turn, especially in this communication to you," 



58 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

" Dear Sheridan, Twelve o'clock^ noon. 

" The King last night about twelve o'clock, being then in a 
situation he could not long have survived, by the effect of James's 
powder, had a profuse stool, after w^hich a strong perspiration 
appeared, and he fell into a profound sleep. We were in hopes 
this was the o:isis of his disorder, although the doctors were 
fearful it was so only with respect to one part of his disorder. 
However, these hopes contmued not above an hour, when he 
awoke, w^ith a well-conditioned skin, no extraordinary degree of 
fever, but with the exact state he was in before, with all the ges- 
tures and ravings of the most confirmed maniac, and a new noise, 
in imitation of the howling of a dog ; in this situation he was this 
morning at one o'clock, when we came to bed. The Duke of 
York, ^vho has been twice in my room in the course of the night, 
immediately from the King's apartment, says there has not been 
one moment of lucid interval during the whole night, — which, I 
must observe to you, is the concurring, as well as /a^aZ testimony 
of all about him, from the first moment of His Majesty's con- 
finement. The doctors have since had their consultation, and find 
His Majesty calmer, and his pulse tolerably good and much re- 
duced, but the most decided symptoms of insanity. His theme 
has been all this day on the subject of religion, and of his being 
inspired, from which his physicians draw the worst consequences^ 
as to any hopes of amendment. In this situation His Majesty 
remains at the present moment, which I give you at length, to 
prevent your giving credit to the thousand ridiculous reports 
that we hear, even upon the spot. Truth is not easily got at in 
palaces, and so I find here ; and time only slowly brings it to 
one's knowledge. One hears a little bit every day from some- 
body, that has been reserved with great costiveness, or purposely 
forgotten ; and by all such accounts I find that the present dis- 
temper has been very palpable for some time past, previous to 
any confinement from sickness ; and so apprehensive have the 
people about him been of giving offence by interruption, that the 
two days (viz. yesterday se'nnight and the Monday following) 
tliat- he was five hours each on horseback, be was in a confirmed 



RIGHT HON. RICHAKD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 59 

frenzy. On the Monday at his return he burst out into tears to 
the Duke of York, and said, ' He wished to God he might die, 
for he was going to be mad ;' and the Queen, who sent to Dr. 
Warren, on his arrival, privately communicated her knowledge 
of his situation for some time past, and the melancholy event as 
it stood exposed. I am prolix upon all these different reports, 
that you may be completely master of the subject as it stands, 
and which I shall continue to advertise you of in all its variations. 
Warren, who is the living principle in this business, (for poor 
Baker is half crazed himself,) and who I see every half hour, 
is extremely attentive to the King's disorder. The various fluc- 
tuations of his ravings, as well as general situation of his health, 
are accurately written down throughout the day, and this we have 
got signed by the Physicians every day, and all proper inquiry 
invited ; for I think it necessary to do every thing that may pre- 
vent their making use hereafter of any thing like jealousy, sus- 
picion, or mystery, to create public distrust ; and, therefore, the 
best and most unequivocal means of satisfaction shall be always 
attended to. 

" Five o'clock, P. M, 
" So faf I had proceeded when I was, on some business of 
importance, obliged to break off till now ; and, on my return, 
found your letter ; — I need not, I hope, say your confidence is as 
safe as if it was retStned to your own mind, and your advice will 
always be thankfully adopted. The event we looked for last 
night is postponed, perhaps for a short time, so that, at least, we 
shall have time to consider more maturely. The Doctors told 
Pitt they would beg not to be obliged to make their declaration 
for a fortnight as to the incurability of the King's mind, and 
not to be surprised if, at- the expiration of that time, they should 
ask more time ; but that they were perfectly ready to declare 
now, for the furtherance of public business, that he is now insane ; 
that it appears to be unconnected with any other disease of his 
body, and that they have tried all their skill without effect, and 
that to the disease they a l present see no end in their contemplation : 
— the"*^ iire their own words, which is all that can be implied in 



60 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

an absolute declaration, — for infallibility cannot be ascribed to 
them. 

" Should not something be done about the public amusements 1 
If it was represented to .Pitt, it might embarrass them either 
way ; particularly as it might call for a public account every day 
I think the Chancellor might take a good opportunity to break 
with his colleagues, if they propose restriction, the Law authority 
would have great weight with us, as well as preventing even a 
design of moving the City; — at all events, I think Parliament 
would not confirm their opinion. If Pitt stirs much, I think any 
attempt to ^rasp at power might be fatal to his interest, at least, 
well turned against it. 

" The Prince has sent for me directly, so I'll send this now, 
and write again." 

In the words, " I think the Chancellor might take a good op- 
portunity to break with his colleagues," the writer alludes to a 
negotiation which Sheridan had entered into with Lord Thurlow, 
and by which it was expected that the co-operation of that Learned 
Lord might be secured, in. consideration of his being allowed to 
retain the office of Chancellor under the Regency. 

Lord Thuxlow was one of those persons who, being taken by 
the world at their own estimate of themselves, contrive to pass 
upon the times in which they live for much more than they are 
worth. His bluntness gained him credit for superior honesty, 
and the same peculiarity of exterior gave a weight, not their own, 
to his talents ; the roughness of the diamond being, by a very 
common mistake, made the measure of its value. The nego- 
tiation for his alliance on this occasion was managed, if not first 
suggested, by Sheridan ; and Mr. Fox, on his arrival from the 
Continent, (having been sent for express upon the first announce- 
ment of the King's illness,) found considerable progress already 
made in the preliminaries of this heterogeneous compact. 

The following letter from Admiral Payne, written immediately 
after the return of Mr. Fox, contains some further allusions to 
the negotiations with the Chancellor : — 



RIGHT HON". RICHARD BRlKSLEY SHERIDAN. 61 

" My dear Sheridan, 

" I am this moment returned with the Prince from riding, and 
heard, with great pleasure, of Cliarles Fox' s arrival ; on which 
account, he says, I must go to town to-morrow, when I hope to 
meet you at his house some time before dinner. The Prince is 
to see the Chancellor to-morrow, and therefore he wishes I should 
be able to carry to town the result of this interview, or I would 
set off immediately. Due deference is had to our former opinion 
upon this subject, and no courtship will be practised ; for the 
chief object in the visit is to show him the King, who has been 
worse the two last days than ever: this morning he made an ef- 
fort to jump out of the window, and is now very turbulent and 
incoherent. Sir G. Baker went yesterday to give Pitt a little 
specimen of his loquacity, in his discovery of some material 
state-secrets, at which he looked astonished. The Phvsicians 
wish him to be removed to Kew ; on which we shall proceed as 
we settled. Have you heard any thing of the Foreign Ministers 
respecting what the P. said at Bagshot 1 The Frenchman has 
been here two days running, but has not seen the Prince. He 
sat with me half an hour this morning, and seemed much dis- 
posed to confer a little closely. He was all admiration and 
friendship for the Prince, and said he was sure every body would 
unite to give vigor to his government. 

" To-morrow you shall hear particulars; in the mean time I 
can only add I have none of the apprehensions contained in Lord 
L.'s letter. I have had correspondence enough myself on this 
subject to convince me of the impossibility of the Ministry ma- 
naging the present Parliament by any contrivance hostile to the 
Prince. Dinner is on table ; so adieu ; and be assured of the 
truth and sincerity of 

" Yours affectionately, 
'* Windsor, Monday, 5 o'clock, P. if. " J. W. P. 

" I have just got Rodney's proxy sent." 

The situation in which Mr. Fox was placed by the treaty thus 
commenc/ed, before his arrival, with the Chancellor, was not a 



62 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

little embarrassing. In addition to the distaste which he must 
have felt for such a union, he had been already, it appears, in 
some degree pledgedjto bestow the Great Seal, in the event of a 
change, upon Lord Loughborough. Finding, however, the Prince 
and his party so far committed in the negotiation with Lord 
Thurlow, he thought it expedient, however contrary to his own 
wishes, to accede to their views ; and a letter, addressed by him 
to Mr. Sheridan on the occasion, shows the struggle w4th his own 
feelings and opinions, which this concession cost him : — 

" Dear Sheridan, 

" fc have swallowed the pill, — a most bitter one it was, — and 
have written to Lord Loughborough, whose answer of course 
must be consent. What is to be done next ? Should the Prince 
himself, you, or I, or Warren, be the person to speak to the 
Chancellor ? The objection to the last is, that he must probably 
wait for an opportunity, and that no time is to be lost. Pray 
tell me w^hat is to be done : I am convinced, after all, the nego- 
tiation will not succeed, and am not sure that I am sorry for it. 
I do not remember ever feeling so uneasy about any political 
thing I ever did in my life. Call if you can. 

" Yours ever, 

'' Sat past 12. " C. J. F." 

Lord Loughborough, in the mean time, with a vigilance quick- 
ened by his own personal views, kept watch on the mysterious 
movements of the Chancellor ; and, as appears by the following 
letter, not only saw reason to suspect duplicity himself, but took 
care that Mr. Fox and Mr. Sheridan should share in his dis- 
trust : — 

"My dear S. 
" I was afraid to pursue the conversation on the circumstance 

of the Inspection committed to the Chancellor, lest the reflec- 
tions that arise upon it might have made too strong an impres- 
sion on some of our neighbors last night. It does indeed appear 
to me full pf mischief, and of that sort most likely to affect the 



RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 63 

apprehensions of our best friends, (of Lord Jolin for instance,) 
and to increase their reluctance to take any active part. 

" The Chancellor's object evidently is to make his way by 
himself, and he has managed hitherto as one very well practised 
in that game. His conversations, both with you and Mr. Fox, 
were encouraging, but at the same time checked all explanations 
on his part under a pretence of delicacy towards his colleagues. 
When he let them go to Salthill and contrived to dine at Wind- 
sor, he certainly took a step that most men would have felt not 
very delicate in its appearance, and unless there was some pri- 
vate understanding between him and them, not altogether fair ; 
especially if you add to it the sort of conversation he held with 
regard to them. I cannot help thinking that the difficulties of 
managing the patient have been excited or improved to lead to 
the proposal of his inspection, (without the Prince being con- 
scious of it,) for by that situation he gains an easy and frequent 
access to him, and an opportunity of possessing the confidence 
of the Queen. I believe this the more from the account of the 
tenderness he showed at his first interview, for ] am sure, it is 
not in his character to feel any. With a little instruction from 
Lord Hawksbury, the sort of management that was carried on 
by means of the Princess-Dowager, in the early part of the 
reign, may easily be practised. In short, I think he will try to 
find the key of the back stairs, and, with that in his pocket, take 
any situation that preserves his access, and enables him to hold 
a line between different parties. In the present moment, how- 
ever, he has taken a position that puts the command of the 
House of Lords in his hands, for * * * 

■t 



'J 
* 



" I wish Mr. Fox and you would give these considerations 
what weight you think they deserve, and try if any means can 
be taken to remedy this mischief, if it appears in the same light 
to you 

" Ever yours, &;c." 

* The remainder of this sentence is effaced by damp 



64 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THBJ 

What were the motives that induced Lord Thurlow to break 
off so suddenly his negotiation with the Prince's party, and de- 
clare himself with such vehemence on the side of the King and 
Mr. Pitt, it does not appear very easy to ascertain. Possibly, 
from his opportunities of visiting the Royal Patient, he had been 
led to conceive sufficient hopes of recovery, to incline the bal- 
ance of his speculation that way ; or, perhaps, in the influence 
of Lord Loughborough* over Mr. Fox, he saw a risk of being 
supplanted in his views on the Great Seal. Whatever may have 
been the motive, it is certain that his negotiation with the Whigs 
had been amicably carried on, till within a few hours of his de- 
livery of^that speech, from whose enthusiasm the public could 
little suspect how fresh from the incomplete bargain of defection 
was the speaker, and in the course of w^hich he gave vent to the 
w^ell-known declaration, that " his debt of gratitude to His Ma- 
psty was amjple, for the many favors he had graciously con- 
fcxTed upon him, w^hich, when he forgot, might God forget 
him!"f " 

As it is not my desire to imitate those biographers, who swell 
their pages with details that belong more properly to History, I 
shall forbear to enter into a minute or consecutive narrative of 
the proceedings of Parliament on the important subject of the 
Regency. A writer of political biography has a right, no doubt, 
like an engineer who constructs a navigable canal, to lay every 
brook and spring in the neighborhood under contribution for the 
supply and enrichment of his work. But, to turn into it the 
whole contents of the Annual Register and Parliamentary De- 
bates is a sort of literary engineering, not quite so laudable, 
which, after the example set by a Right Reverend biographer of 
jMr. Pitt, will hardly again be attempted by any one, whose am- 
bition, at least, it is to be read as well as bought. 

Mr. Fox and Mr. Pitt, it is well known, differed essentially, not 
only with respect to the form of the proceedings, which the lat- 

* Lord Loughborough is supposed to have been the person who instilled into the mind 
Oi Mr. Fox the idea of advancing that claim of right for the Prince, which gave Mr. Pitt, 
m principle 3s well as in fact, such an advantage over him. 

f "Forget you !" said Wilkes, '' he'll sec you d — d first." 



felGHT HON. EiCHAED BEINSLEY SHEEIDAN. 65 

ter recommended in that suspension of the Royal authority, but 
a^so with respect to the abstract constitutional principles, upon 
which those proceedings of the Minister were professedly founded. 
As soon as the nature of the malady, with which the King was 
afflicted, had been ascertained by a regular examination of the 
physicians in attendance on His Majesty, Mr. Pitt moved (on 
the 10th of December), that a " Committee be appointed to ex- 
amine and report precedents of such proceedings as may have 
been had, in case of the personal exercise of the Royal authority 
being prevented or interrupted, by infancy, sickness, infirmity, oi 
otherwise, with a view to provide for the same."^ 

It was immediately upon this motion t^^t Mr. Fox advanced 
that inconsiderate claim of Right for the Prince of Wales, of 
which his rival availed himself so dexterously and triumphantly. 
Having asserted that there existed no precedent whatever that 
could bear upon the present case, Mr. Fox proceeded to say, 
that '• the circumstance to be provided for did not depend upon 
their deliberations as a House of Parliament, — it rested else- 
where. There was then a person in the kingdom, different from 
any other person that any existing precedents could refer to, — 
an Heir Apparent, of full age and capacity to exercise the royal 
power. It behoved them, therefore, to waste not a moment un- 
necessarily, but to proceed with all becoming speed and diligence 
to restore the Sovereign power and the exercise of the Royal 
Authority. From what he had read of history, from the ideas 
he had formed of the law, and, what was still more precious, of 
the spirit of the Constitution, from every reasoning and analogy; 

* Mr. Burke and Mr. Sheridan were both members of this committee, and the follow 
ing letter from the former to Sheridan refers to it : — 

" My dear Sir, 
"My idea was, that on Fox's declaring that the precedents, neither individually nor 
colleciively, do at all apply, our attendance ought to have been merely formal. But as 
you think; otherwise, I shall certainly be at the committee soon after one. I rather think, 
that they will n-)t attempt to garble: because, f'upposing the precedents to apply, the 
major part are certainly in their favor. It is not likely that they mean to suppress, — but 
it is good to be on our guard . 

" Ever m.ost truly yours, &:c. 
" Geiard Street, Thursday Morning " EoiruND Bueke." 



66 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

drawn from those sources, he declared that he had not in his 
mind a doubt, and he should think himself culpable if he did not 
take the first opportunity of declaring it, that, in the present con- 
dition of His Majesty, His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales 
had as clear, as express a Right to exercise the power of Sove- 
reignty, during the continuance of the illness and incapacity, 
with which it had pleased God to afflict His Majesty, as in the 
case of His Majesty's having undergone a natural demise." 

It is said that, during the delivery of this adventurous opinion, 
thc' countenance of Mr. Pitt was seen to brighten with exultation 
at the mistake into which he perceived his adversary was hurry- 
ing ; and scarcely had the sentence, just quoted, been concluded, 
when, slapping his thigh triumphantly, he turned to the person 
who sat next to him, and said, " I'll un- Whig the gentleman for 
the rest of his life !" 

Even without this anecdote, which may be depended upon as 
authentic, we have sufficient evidence that such were his feelings 
in the burst of animation and confidence with which he instantly 
replied to Mr. Fox, — taking his ground, with an almost equal 
temerity, upon the directly opposite doctrine, and asserting, not 
only that " in the case of the interruption of the personal exer- 
cise of the Royal Authority, it devolved upon the other branches 
of the Legislature to provide a substitute for that authority," 
but that " the Prince of Wales had no more right to exercise the 
powers of government than any other person in the realm.'' 

Tlie truth is, the assertion of a Right was equally erroneous, 
on both sides of the question. The Constitution having pro- 
vided no legal remedy for such an exigence as had now occurred, 
the two Houses of Parliament had as little right (in the strict 
sense of the word) to supply the deficiency of the Royal power, 
as the Piince had to be the person elected or adjudged for that 
purpose. Constitutional analogy and expediency were the only 
authorities by which the measures necessary in such a conjunc- 
ture could be either guided or sanctioned ; and if the disputants 
on each side had softened down their tone to this true and prac>- 
tical view of the case, there would have been no material differ- 



maST HOK. RICHARD BRlKSLEY SHERIDAN. 6? 

ence, in the first stage of the proceedings between them, — Mr. 
Pitt being ready to allow that the Heir Apparent was the ob- 
vious person to whom expediency pointed as the depository of 
the Royal power, and Mr. Fox having granted, in a subsequent 
explanation of his doctrine, that, strong as was the right upon 
whjA the claim of the Prince was founded. His Royal Highness 
could not assume that right till it had been formally adjudicated 
to him by Parliament. The principle, however, having been 
imprudently broached, Mr. Pitt was too expert a tactician not 
to avail himself of the advantage it gave him. He was thus, 
indeed, furnished with an opportunity, not only of gaining time 
by an artful protraction of the discussions, but of occupying vic- 
toriously the ground of Whiggism, which Mr. Fox had, in his 
impatience or precipitancy, deserted, and of thus adding to the 
character, which he had recently acquired, of a defender of the 
prerogatives of the Crown, the more brilliant reputation of an 
assertor of the rights of the people. 

In the popular view which Mr. Pitt found it convenient to 
take of this question, he was led, or fell voluntarily into some 
glaring errors, which pervaded the whole of his reasonings on the 
subject. In his anxiety to prove the omnipotence of Parliament, 
he evidently confounded the Estates of tlig|realm with the Legis- 
lature,* and attributed to two branches of the latter such powers as 
are only legally possessed by the whole three in Parliament as- 
sembled. For the purpose, too, of flattering the people with the 
notion that to them had now reverted the right of choosing their 
temporary Sovereign, he applied a principle, which ought to be 
reserved for extreme cases, to an exigence by no means requir 
ing this ultimate appeal, — the defect in the government being 
such as the still existing Estates of the realm, appointed to speak 
the will of the people, but superseding any direct exercise of 
their power, were fully competent, as in the instance of the Re- 
volution, to remedy. j- 

* Air. Grattan and ihe Irish Parliament carried this error still farther, and founded all 
their proceedings on the necessity of " providing for the deficiency of the Third Estate.*' 

* fhe most luminous view that has been taken of this Question is to be foimd in an A^ 



68 MEMOiiiS OF the life of THfi 

Indeed, the solemn use of such language as Mr. Pitt, in his 
over-acted Whiggism, employed upon this occasion,— namely, 
that the " right " of appointing a substitute for the Royal power 
was " to be found in the voice and the sense of the people," — is 
applicable only to those conjunctures, brought on by misrule and 
oppression, when all forms are lost in the necessity of Mlief, 
and when the right of the people to change and choose their 
rulers is among the most sacred and inalienable that either nature 
or social polity has ordained. But, to apply the language of 
that last resource to the present emergency w^as to brandish the 
sword of Goliath* on an occasion that by no means called for it. 

The question of the Prince's claim, — in spite of the efforts of 
the Prince himself and of his Royal relatives to avert the 
agitation of it, — was, for evident reasons, forced into discussion 
by the Minister, and decided by a majority, not only of the two 
Houses but of the nation, in his favor. During one of the long 
debates to which the question gave rise, Mr. Sheridan allowed 
himself to be betrayed into some expressions, which, considering 
the delicate predicament in which the Prince was placed by the 
controversy, were not marked with his usual tact and sagacity. 
In alluding to the claim of Right advanced for His Royal High- 
ness, and deprecatinc^^y further agitation of it, he " reminded 
the Right HonorableGentleman (Mr. Pitt) of the danger of 
provoking that claim to be asserted [a loud cry of hear ! hear !], 
which, he observed, had not yet be^n preferred. [Another cry 
of hear ! hear !]" This was the very language that Mr. Pitt 
most wished his adversaries to assume, and, accordingly, he 
turned it to account with all his usual mastery and haughtiness. 
" He had now," he said, " an additional reason for asserting the 
authority of the House, and defining the boundaries of Right, 
when the deliberative faculties of Parliament were invaded, and 
an indecent menace thrown out to awe and influence their pro- 

licle of the Edinburgh Review, on the Regency of 1811, — written by one of the most 
learned and able men of our day, Mr. John Allen. 

* A simile applied by Lord Somers to the power of Impeachment, which, he said, 
*' should be like Goliath's sword, kept in the temple, and not used but upon grea,t occa 

sions." 



HIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 69 

ceedings. In the discussion of the question, the House, he trusted, 
would do their duty, in spite of any threat that might be thrown 
out. Men, who felt their native freedom, w^ould not submit to a 
threat, however high the authority from w^hich it might come."* 
The restrictions of the Prerogative with which Mr. Pitt 
thought proper to encumber the transfer of the Royal power to 
the Prince, formed the second great point of discussion between 
the parties, and brought equally adverse principles into play. 
Mr. Fox, still maintaining his position on the side of Royalty, 
defended it with much more tenable weapons than the question 
of Right had enabled him to wield. So founded, indeed, in the 
purest principles of Whiggism did he consider his opposition, 
on this memorable occasion, to any limitation of the Prerogative 
in the hands of a Regent, that he has, in his History of James 
II., put those principles deliberately upon record, as a funda- 
mental article in the creed of his party. The passage to which 
I allude occurs in his remarks upon the Exclusion Bill ; and as it 
contains, in a condensed form, the spirit of what he urged on the 
same point in 1789, 1 cannot do better than lay his own words 
before the reader. After expressing his opinion that, at the pe- 
riod of which he writes, the measure of exclusion from the 
monarchy altogether would have been preferable to any limit- 
ation of its powers, he proceeds to say : — " The Whigs, who 
consider the powers of the Crown as a trust for the people, a 
doctrine which the Tories themselves, when pushed in argument, 
will sometimes admit, naturally think it their duty rather to 
change the manager of the trust than impair the subject of it ; 
while others, who consider them as the right or property of the 
King, will as naturally act as they would do in the case of any 
other property, and consent to the loss or annihilation of any 
part of it, for the purpose of preserving the remainder to him, 
whom they style the rightful owner." Further on he adds: — 
" The Royal Prerogative ought, according to the Whigs, to be 
reduced to such powers as are in their exercise beneficial to the 
people ; and of the benefit of these they will not rashly suffer 

* ImpaHial Report of all the Proceedings cm the Subject of the Regency. 



70 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

the people to be deprived, whether the executive power be in 
the hands of an hereditary or of an elective King, of a Eegent, 
or of any other denomination of magistrate ; while, on the other 
hand, they who consider Prerogative with reference only to 
Royalty will, with equal readiness, consent either to the exten- 
sion or the suspension of its exercise, as the occasional interests 
of the Prince may seem to require." 

Taking this as a correct exposition of the doctrines of the two 
parties, of which Mr. Fox and Mr. Pitt may be considered to 
have been the representatives in the Regency question of 1789, 
it will strike some minds that, however the Whig may flatter 
himself that the principle by which he is guided m such exigencies 
is favorable to liberty, and however the Tory may, with equal sin- 
cerity, believe his suspension of the Prerogative on these occasions 
to be advantageous to the Crown, yet that in both of the princi- 
ples, so defined, there is an evident tendency to produce effects, 
wholly different from those which the parties professing them con- 
template. 

On the one side, to sanction from authority the notion, that 
there are some powers of the Crown which may be safely dis- 
pensed with, — to accustom the people to an abridged exercise of 
the Prerogative, with the risk of suggesting to their minds that 
its full eflicacy needs not be resumed, — to set an example, in 
short, of reducing the Kingly Power, which, by its success, may 
invite and authorize still further encroachments, — all these are 
dano-ers to which the alleged doctrine of Torvism, whenever 
brought into practice, exposes its idol ; and more particularly in 
enlightened and speculative times, when the minds of men are in 
quest of the right and the useful, and when a superfluity of power 
is one of those abuses, which they are least likely to overlook or 
tolerate. In such seasons, the experiment of the Tory might lead 
to all that he most deprecates, and the branches of the Preroga- 
tive, once cut away, might, like the lopped boughs of the fir-tree, 
never grow again. 

On the other hand, the Whig, who asserts that the Royal Pre- 
rogative ought to be reduced to such powers as are beneficial to 



HIGHT HON. RICHARD BRIXSLEY SHERIDAN. 71 

the people, and yet stipulates, as an invariable principle, for the 
transfer of that Prerogative full and unimpaired, whenever it 
passes into other hands, appears, even more perhaps than the Tory, 
to throw an obstacle in the way of his own object. Circumstances, 
it is not denied, may arise w^hen the increase of the powers of the 
Crown, in other ways, may render it advisable to control some 
of its established prerogatives. But, where are we to find a fit 
moment for such a reform, — or what opening will be left for it 
by this fastidious Whig principle, which, in 1680, could see no 
middle step betw^een a change of the Succession and an undimin- 
ished maintenance of the Prerogative, and which, in 1789, almost 
upon the heels of a Declaration that " the power of the Crown 
had increased and ought to be diminished," protested against even 
an experimental reduction of it ! 

According to Mr. Fox, it is a distinctive characteristic of the 
Tory, to attach more importance to the person of the King than 
to his office. But, assuredly, the Tory is not singular in this want 
of political abstraction; and, in England, (from a defect, Hume 
thinks, inherent in all limited monarchies,) the personal qualities 
and opinions of the Sovereign have considerable influence upon 
the whole course of public aflTairs, — being felt alike in that court- 
ly sphere around them where their attraction acts, and in that 
outer circle of opposition where their repulsion comes into play. 
To this influence, then, upon the govermnent and the community, of 
which no abstraction can deprive the person of the monarch, the 
Whig principle in question (which seems to consider entireness of 
Prerogative as necessary to a King, as the entireness ofhis limbs was 
held to be among the Athenians,) superadds the vast power, both 
actual and virtual, which would flow from the inviolability of the 
Royal office, and forecloses, so far, the chance which the more 
pliant Tory doctrine would leave open, of counteracting the eflects 
of the King's indirect personal influence, by curtailing or weaken- 
ing the grasp of some of his direct regal powers. Ovid repre- 
sents the Deity of Light (and on an occasion, too, which may be 
called a Regency question) as crowned with movable rays, which 
might be put off'when too strong or dazzling. But, according to 



72 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

this principle, the crown of Prerogative must keep its rays fixed 
and immovable, and (as the poet expresses it) " ciixa caput omnb 
micantes.^^ 

Upon the whole, however high the authorities, by which this 
"Whig doctrine was enforced in 1789, its manifest tendency, in 
most cases, to secure a perpetuity of superfluous powers to the 
Crown, appears to render it unfit, at least as an invariable prin- 
ciple, for any party professing to have the liberty of the people 
for their object. The Prince, in his admirable Letter upon the 
subject of the Regency to Mr. Pitt, was made to express the un- 
willingness which he felt " that in his person an experiment should 
be made to ascertain with how small a portion of kingly powxr 
the executive government of the country might be carried on ;" 
— but imagination has not flir to go in supposing a case, where 
the enormous patronage vested in the Crown, and the consequent 
increase of a Royal bias through the community, might give such 
an undue and unsafe preponderance to that branch of the Legis- 
lature, as would render any safe opportunity, however acquired, of 
ascertaining wdth how much less power the executive government 
could be carried on, most acceptable, in spite of any dogmas to the 
contrary, to all true lovers as well of the monarchy as of the people. 

Having given thus much consideration to the opinions and prin- 
ciples, professed on both sides of this constitutional question, it is 
mortifying, after all, to be obliged to acknowledge, that, in the 
relative situation of the two parties at the moment, may be found 
perhaps the real, and but too natural, source of the decidedly op< 
posite views which they took of the subject. Mr. Pitt, about to 
surrender the possession of power to his rival, had a very intel- 
ligible interest in reducing the value of the transfer, and (as a 
retreating army spike the guns they leave behind) rendering the 
engines of Preroo;ative as useless as possible to his successor. 
Mr. Fox, too, had as natural a motive to oppose such a design; 
and, aware that the chief aim of these restrictive measures was to 
entail upon the Whig ministry of the Regent a weak Government 
and strong Opposition, would, of course, eagerly welcome the 
aid of any abstract principle, that might sanction him in resisting 



RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 73 

such a mutilation of the Royal power ; — well knowing that (as in 
the case of the Peerage Bill in the reign of George I.) the pro- 
ceedings altogether were actuated more by ill-will to the succes- 
sor in the trust, than by any sincere zeal for the purity of its 
exercise. 

Had the situations of the two leaders been reversed, it is more 
than probable that their modes of tliinking and acting w^ould have 
been so likewise. Mr. Pitt, with the prospect of power before 
his eyes, w^ould have been still more strenuous, perhaps, for the 
unbroken transmission of the Prerogative — his natural leaning on 
the side of power being increased by his- own approaching share 
m it. Mr. Fox, too, if stopped, like his rival, in a career of suc- 
cessful administration, and obliged to surrender up the reins of 
the state to Tory guidance, might have found in his popular prin- 
ciples a still more plausible pretext, for the abridgment of power 
in such unconstitutional hands. He might even too, perhaps, (as 
his India Bill warrants us in supposing) have been tempted into 
the same sort of alienation of the Royal patronage, as that which 
Mr, Pitt now practised in the establishment of the Queen, and 
have taken care to leave behind him a stronghold of Whiggism, 
to facilitate the resumption of his position, whenever an opportu- 
nity might present itself Such is human nature, even in its ' 
noblest specimens, and so are the strongest spirits shaped by the 
mould in which chance and circumstances have placed them. 

Mr. Sheridan spoke frequently in the Debates on this question, 
but his most important agency lay in the less public business 
connected with it. He was the confidential adviser of the Prince 
throughout, directed every step he took, and was the author of 
most of his correspondence on the subject. There is little doubt, 
I think, that the celebrated and masterly Letter to Mr. Pitt, 
which by some persons has been attributed to Burke, and by 
others to Sir Gilbert Elliot (afterwards Lord Minto), w^as prin- 
cipally the production of Mr. Sheridan. For the supposition 
that it was w^ritten by Burke there are, besides the merits ol* the 
production, but very scanty grounds. So little was he at that 
period in those habits of confidence with the Prince, which would 

VOL. u. 4 



74 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF I HS 

entitle him to be selected for such a task in preference to Sheridan, 
that but eight or ten days before the date of this letter (Jan. 2.) 
he had declared in the House' of Commons, that '• he knew as 
little of the inside of Carlton House as he did of Buckingham 
House," Indeed, the violent state of this extraordinary man's 
temper, durmg the whole of the discussions and proceedings on 
the l^egency, would have rendered him, even had his intimacy 
with the Prince been closer, an unfit person for the composition 
of a document, requiring so much caution, temper, and delicacy. 

The conjecture that Sir Gilbert Elliot was the author of it is 
somewhat more plausible, — that gentleman being at this period 
high in the favor of the Prince, and possessing talents sufficient 
to authorize the suspicion (which was in itself a reputation) that 
he had been the writer of a composition so admirable. But it 
seems hardly necessary to go farther, in quest of its author, than 
Mr. Sheridan, who, besides being known to have acted the part 
of the Prince's adviser through the whole transaction, is proved 
by the rough copies found among his papers, to have written 
several other important documents connected with the Regency. 

I may also add that an eminent statesman of the present day, 
w^ho w^as at that period, though very young, a distinguished friend 
of Mr. Sheridan, and who has shown by the ability of his own 
State Papers that he has not forgot the lessons of that school 
from which this able production emanated, remembers having 
heard some passages of the Letter discussed m Bruton-street, as 
if it were then in the progress of composition, and has always, 
I believe, been under the impression that it was prmcipally the 
work of Mr. Sheridan.* 

I had written thus far on the subject of this Letter — and shall 
leave what 1 have A\Titten as a memorial of the fallacy of such 
conjectures — when, having still some doubts of my correctness 
in attributing the honor of the composition to Sheridan, I resolved 
to ask the opinion of my friend. Sir James Mackmtosh, a person 

* To this autiiorily may ])e added also llial of the Bishop of Winchester, who says,— 
*' Mr. Sheridan was supposed to have been materially concerned in drawing up this ad- 
mirable composition." 



RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAIST. 7o 

above all others qualified, by relationship of talent, to recognize 
and hold parley with the mighty spirit of Burke, in whatever 
shape the '• Royal Dane " may appear. The strong impression 
on his mind — amounting almost to certainty — was that no other 
hand but that of Burke could have written the greater part of 
the letter ;* and by a more diligent inquiry, in which his kind- 
ness assisted me, it has been ascertained that his opinion was, as 
it could not fail to be, correct. The following extract from a 
letter written by Lord Minto at the time, referring obviously to 
the surmise that he was, himself, the author of the paper, con- 
firms beyond a doubt the fact, that it was written almost solely 
by Burke : — 

'- January Z\st, 1789. 

•' There was not a word of the Prince's letter to Pitt mine. It was origi- 
nally Burke's, altered a little, but not improved, by Sheridan and other 
critics. The answer made by the Prince yesterday to the Address of the 
two Houses was entirely mine, and done in a great hurry half an hour be- 
fore it was to be delivered." 

While it is with regret I give up the claim of Mr. Sheridan to 
this fine specimen of English composition, it but adds to my in- 
tense admiration of Burke — not on ac<?ount of the beauty of the 
writing, for his fame required no such accession — but from that 
triumph of mind over temper which it exhibits — that forgetful- 
ness of Self^ the true, transmigrating power of genius, which 
enabled him thus to pass his spirit into the station of Royalty, 
and to assume all the calm dignity, both of style and feeling, that 
became it. 

It was to be expected that the conduct of Lord Thurlow at this 
period should draw do^vn upon him all the bitterness of those 

* It is amusing to observe how tastes differ ;— the following is the opinion entertained 
of this letter by a gentleman, who, I understand, and can easily belitve, is an old estab- 
lished Revi« wer. After mentioning that it was attributed to the pen of Burke, he adds, 
— " The story, however, does not scem entitled to much credit, for the internal character 
of the paper is loo vapid and heavy for the genius of Burke, whose ardent mind would 
assuredly have diffused vigor into the composition, and the correctness of whose judg- 
ment would as certainly have preserved it from the charge of inelegance and grammati' 
cal deficiency."— Dr. Watki.ns, L{ft of Sheridan. 

Suchj in nine cases out of ten, are liie periodical guides of public taste. 



76 MEMOIRS OF THE lAFE OF THE 

who were in the secret of his ambidextrous policy, and who 
knew both his disposition to desert, and the nature of the motives 
that prevented him. To Sheridan, in particular, such a result of 
a negotiation, in which he had been the principal mover and 
mediator, could not be otherwise than deeply mortifying. Of 
all the various talents with which he was gifted, his dexterity in 
political intrigue and management was that of which he appears 
to have been most vain ; and this vanity it was that, at a later 
period of his life, sometimes led him to branch off from the 
main body of his party, upon secret and solitary enterprises of 
ingenuity, which — as may be expected from all such independent 
movements of a partisan — generally ended in thwarting his 
friends and embarrassing himself 

In the debate on that clause of the Bill, which restricted the 
Regent from granting places or pensions in reversion, Mr. She- 
ridan is represented as having attacked Lord Thurlow in terms 
of the most unqualified severity, — speaking of " the natural 
ferocity and sturdiness of his temper," and of " his brutal blufF- 
ness." But to such abuse, unseasoned by wit, Mr. Sheridan 
was not at all likely to have condescended, being well aware 
that, '• as in smooth oil the razor best is set," so satire is whetted 
to its most perfect keenness by courtesy. His clumsy reporters 
have, in this, as m almost all other instances, misrepresented 
him. 

With equal personality, but more playfulness, Mr. Burke, in 
exposing that wretched fiction, by which the Great Seal was con- 
verted into the Third Branch of the Legislature, and the assent 
of the King forged to a Bill, in which his incapacity to give 
either assent or dissent was declared, thus expressed himself: — 
" But what is to be done when the Crown is in a deliquium ^ It 
was intended, he had heard, to set up a man with black brows 
and a larse wig, a kind of scare-crow to the two Houses, who 
was to give a fictitious assent in the royal name — and this to be 
binding on the people at large 1" The following remarkable 
passage, too, in a subsequent Speech, is almost too well known 
to be cited : — " The other House," he said, " were not yet pez*- 



RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. T1 

haps recovered from that extraordinary burst of the pathetic 
which had been exhibited the other evening ; they had not yet 
dried their eyes, or been restored to their former placidity, and 
were unqualified to attend to new business. The tears shed in 
that House on the occasion to which he alluded, were not the 
tears of patriots for dying law^s, but of Cords for their expiring 
places. The iron tears, which flowed down Pluto's cheek, rather 
resembled the dismal bubbling of the Styx, than the gentle mur- 
muring streams of Aganippe." 

While Lord Thurlow was thus treated by the party whom he 
had so nearly joined, he was but coldly welcomed back by the 
Minister whom he had so nearlv deserted. His reconciliation, too, 
with the latter was by no means either sincere or durable, — the re- 
newal of friendship between politicians, on such occasions, being 
generally like that which the Diable Boiteux describes, as having 
taken place between himself and a brother sprite, — " We were 
reconciled, embraced, and have hated each other heartily ever 
since." 

In the Regency, indeed, and the transactions connected with 
it, may be found the source of most of those misunderstandings 
and enmities, which brf>ke out soon after among the eminent men 
of that day, and were attended with consequences so important 
to themselves and the country. By the difference just mentioned, 
between Mr. Pitt and Lord Thurlow, the ministerial arrange- 
ments of 1793 were facilitated, and the learned Lord, after all his 
sturdy pliancy, consigned to a life of ineffectual discontent ever 
after. 

The disagreement between Mr. Barke and Mr. Fox, if not ac- 
tually originating now — and its foundation had been, perhaps, 
laid from the beginning, in the total dissimilarity of their dispo- 
sitions and <5entiments — was, at least, considerably ripened and 
accelerated by the events of this period, and by the discontent 
that each of them, like partners in unsuccessful play, was known 
to feel at the mistakes which the other had committed in the 
game. Mr. Fox had, unquestionably, every reason to lament as 
well as blame the violence and virulence by which his associate 



78 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

had disgraced the contest. The effect, indeed, produced upon the 
public by the irreverent sallies of Burke, and by the too evident 
triumph, both of hate and hope, with which he regarded the ca- 
lamitous situation of the King, contributed not a little to render 
still lower the already low temperature of popularity at which 
his party stood throughout the country. It seemed as if a long 
course of ineffectual struggle in politics, of frustrated ambition 
and unrewarded talents, had at length exasperated his mind to a 
degree beyond endurance ; and the extravagances into which he 
was hurried in his speeches on this question, appear to have 
been but the first workings of that impatience of a losing cause — 
that resentment of failure, and disgust at his partners in it — 
which soon afterwards found such a signal opportunity of ex- 
ploding. 

That Mr. Burke, upon flir less grounds, was equally discon- 
tented with his co-operators in this emergency, may be collected 
from the following passage of a letter addressed by him in the 
summer of this year to Lord Charlemont, and given by Hardy 
in his Memoirs of that nobleman : — 

" Perpetual failure, even though nothing in that failure can be fixed on 
the improper choice of the object or the injudicious choice of means, will 
detract every day more and more from a man-s credit, until he ends with- 
out success and without reputation. In fact, a constant pursuit even of 
the best objects, without adequate instruments, detracts something from 
the opinion of a man's judgment. This, I think, may be in part the cause 
of the inactivity of others of our friends who are in the vigor of life and 
in possession of a great degree of lead and authority. I do not blame 
them, though I lament that state of the public mind, in which the people 
can consider the exclusion of such talents and such virtues from their ser- 
vice, as a point gained to them. The only point in which I can find any 
thing to blame in these friends, is their not taking the effectual means, 
which they certainly had in their power, of making an honorable retreat 
from their prospect of power into the possession of reputation, by an ef- 
fectual defence of themselves. There was an opportunity which was not 
made use of for that purpose, and which could scarcely have failed of turn- 
ing the tables on their adversaries." 

Another instance of the embittering influence of these transac- 



tttam UOn, RICHARD BnlNSLJ:Y gHEJ^lDAK. 79 

tions may be traced in their effects upon Mr. Burke and Mr. 
Sheridan — between whom there had arisen a degree of emula- 
tion, amounting to jealousy, which, though hitherto chiefly con- 
fined to one of the parties, received on this occasion such an 
addition of fuel, as spread it equally through the minds of both, 
and conduced, in no small degree, to the explosion that followed. 
Both Irishmen, and both adventurers in a region so much elevat- 
ed above their original station, it was but natural that some such 
feeling should kindle between them ; and that, as Burke was 
already mid-way in his career, when Sheridan was but entering 
the field, the stirrings, whether of emulation or envy, should first 
be felt by the latter. It is, indeed, said that in the ceremonial of 
Hastings's Trial, the privileges enjoyed by Burke, as a Privy- 
councillor, were regarded with evident uneasiness by his brother 
Manager, who could not as yet boast the distinction of Right 
Honorable before his name. As soon, however, as the rapid run 
of Sheridan's success had enabled him to overtake his veteran 
rival, this feeling of jealousy took possession in full force of the 
latter, — and the close relations of intimacy aud confidence, to 
which Sheridan was now admitted both by Mr. Fox and the 
Prince, are supposed to have been not the least of those causes 
of irritation and disgust, by which Burke was at length driven to 
break with the party altogether, and to show his gigantic strength 
at parting, by carrying away some of the strongest pillars of 
Whiggism in his grasp. 

Lastly, to this painful list of the feuds, whose origin is to be found 
in the times and transactions of which we are speaking, may be 
added that slight, but too v^isible cloud of misunderstanding, 
which arose between Mr. Fox and Mr. Sheridan, and which, 
though it never darkened into any thing serious, continued to 
pervade their intercourse with each other to the last — exhibiting 
itself, on the part of Mr. Fox, in a degree of distrustful reserve 
not natural to him, and, on the side of Sheridan, in some of those 
counter-workings of influence, which, as I have already said, he 
was sometimes induced by his love of the diplomacy of politics 
to practise. 



8() MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

Aaiong the appointments named in contemplation of a Regen- 
cy, the place of Treasurer of the Navy was allotted to Mr. She- 
ridan. He would never, however, admit the idea of certainty in 
any of the arrangements so sanguinely calculated upon, but 
continually impressed upon his impatient friends the possibility, 
if not probability, of the King's recovery. He had even refused 
to look at the plan of the apartments, vrhich he hmiself was to 
occupy in Somerset House ; and had but just agreed that it 
should be sent to him for examination, on the very day when the 
King was declared convalescent by Dr. Warren. " He entered 
his own house (to use the words of the relater of the anecdote) 
at dinner-time with the news. There were present, — besides 
Mrs. Sheridan and his sister, — Tickell, who, on the change of ad- 
ministration, was to have been immedialely brought into Parlia- 
ment, — Joseph Eichardson, who was to have had Tickell's place 
of Commissioner of the Stamp-office, — Mr. Reid, and some 
others. Not one of the company but had cherished expectations 
from the approaching change — not one of them, however, had 
lost so much as Mr. Sheridan. With his wonted equanimity he 
announced the sudden turn affairs had taken, and looking round 
him cheerfully, as he filled a large glass, said, — ' Let us all join 
in drinking His Majesty's speedy recovery.' " 

The measures which the Irish Parliament adopted on this 
occasion, would have been productive of anomalies, both theoreti- 
cal and practical, had the continued illness of the King allowed 
the projected Regency to take place. As it was, the most 
material consequence that ensued was the dismissal from their 
official situations of Mr. Ponsonby and other powerful individu- 
als, by which the Whig party received such an accession of 
strength, as enabled them to work out for their country the few 
blessings of liberty that still remain to her. Among the victims 
to their votes on this question was Mr. Charles Sheridan, who, 
on the recovery of the King, was dismissed from his office of Sec- 
retary of War, but received compensation by a pension of 1200/. 
a year, with the reversion of 300/. a year to his wife. 

The ready and ardent burst of devotion with which Ireland, at 



BIGHT HON. RICHAKD BRINSLEY SHEHIDAN. 81 

this moment, like the Pythagoreans at their morning worship, 
turned to welcome with her Harp the Rising Sun, was long re- 
membered by the object of her homage with pride and gratitude, 
— and, let us trust, is not even yet entirely forgotten.* 

It has akeady been mentioned that to Mr. Sheridan, at this 
period, was entrusted the task of drawing up several of the State 
Papers of the Heir-Apparent. From the rough copies of these 
papers that have fallen into my hands, I shall content myself 
with selecting two Letters — the first of which was addressed by 
the Prince to the Queen, immediately after the communication 
to her Majesty of the Resolution of the two Houses placing the 
Royal Household under her control. 

" Before Your Majesty gives an answer to the application for your Royal 
permission to place under Your Majesty ^s separate authority the direction 
and appointment of the King^s household, and thereby to separate from 
the difficult and arduous situation which I am unfortunately called upon 
to fill, the accustomed and necessary support which has ever belonged to 
it, permit me, with every sentiment of duty and affection towards Your 
Majesty, to entreat your attentive perusal of the papers which I have the 
honor to enclose. They contain a sketch of the plan now proposed to 
be carried into execution as communicated to me by Mr. Pitt, and the 
sentiments which I found myself bound in duty to declare in reply to that 
communication. I take the liberty of lodging these papers in Yoiu- Majes- 
ty's hands, confiding that, whenever it shall please Providence to remove 
the malady with which the King my father is now unhappily afflicted. 
Your Majesty will, in justice to me and to those of the Royal family whose 
affectionate concurrence and support I have received, take the earliest 
opportunity of submitting them to his Royal perusal, in order that no 
interval of time may elapse before he is in possession of the true matives 
and principles upon which I have acted. I here solemnly repeat to Your 
Majesty, that among those principles there is not one which influences my 
mind so much as the firm persuasion I have, that my conduct in endea- 
voring to maintain unimpaired and undivided the just rights, preroga- 
tives, and dignity of the Crown, in the person of the King's representative, 
is the only line of conduct which would entitle me to His Majesty's appro- 
bation, or enable me to stand with confidence in his Royal presence on the 

* This vain hope was expressed before the late decision on the Catholic question had 
proved to the Irish that, where their rights are concerned, neither public nor private 
pledges are regarded. 

VOL. II. ^* 



82 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

jiappy day of his recovery ; — and, on the contrary, that those ^Yho, undei 
color of respect and attachment to his Royal person, have contrived this 
project for enfeebling and degrading the executive authority of the realm, 
will be considered by him as having risked the happiness of his people 
and the security of the throne itself, by establishing a fatal precedent 
which may hereafter be urged against his own authority, on as plausible 
pretences, or revived against the just rights of his fi^raily. In speaking 
my opinions of the motive of the projectors of this scheme, I trust I need 
not assure Your Majesty that the respect, duty, and affection I owe to Your 
Majesty have never suffered me for a single moment to consider you as 
countenancing, in the slightest degree, their plan or their purposes. I 
have the firmest reliance on Your Majesty's early declaration to me, on 
the subject of public affairs, at the commencement of our common calami- 
ty : and, whatever may be the efforts of evil or interested advisers, I have 
the same confidence that you will never permit or endure that the influ- 
ence of your respected name shall be profaned to the purpose of distress- 
ing the government and insulting the person of your son. How far those, 
who are evidently pursuing both these objects, may be encouraged by 
Your Majesty's acceptance of one part of the powers purposed to be 
lodged in your hands, I will not presume to say.* The proposition has 
assumed the shape of a Resolution of Parliament, and therefore I am 
silent. 

'' Your Majesty will do me the honor to weigh the opinions I formed 
and declared before Parliament had entertained the plan, and, with those 
before you, your own good judgment will decide. I have only to add that 
whatever that decision may be, nothing will ever alter the interest of true 
aflfection and inviolable duty," &c. &c. 

The second Letter that I shall give, from the rough copy of Mr. 
Sheridan, was addressed by the Prince to the King after his 
recovery, announcing the intention of His Royal Highness to sub- 
mit to His Majesty a Memorial, in vindication of his own conduct 
and that of his Royal brother the Duke of York throughout the 
whole of the proceedings consequent upon His Majesty's indispo- 
sition. 

* In speaking of the extraordinary imperium in imperio^ with which the command of 
80 much power and patronage would have invested the Queen, the Annual Register 
(Robinson's) remarks justly, "It was not the least extraordinary circumstance in these 
transactions, that the Queen could be prevailed upon to lend her name to a project which 
would eventually have placed her in avowed rivalship with her son, and, at a moment 
when her attention might seem to be absorbfrl by domestic calamity, have established 
her at thd head of a political party." 



EIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 83 

"Sm, 

" Thinking it probable that I should have been honored with your com- 
mands to attend Your Majesty on Wednesday last, I have unfortunately 
lost the opportunity of paying my duty to Your Majesty before your de- 
parture from Weymouth. . The accounts I have received of Your Majesty^s 
health have given me the greatest satisfaction, and should it be Your Ma- 
jesty's intention to return to Weymouth, I trust, Sir, there will be no im- 
propriety in my ^/?e7i entreating Your Majesty's gracious attention to a point 
of the greatest moment to the peace of my own mind, and one in which I 
am convinced Your Majesty's feelings are equally interested. Your Ma- 
jesty's letter to my brother the Duke of Clarence, in May last, was the first 
direct intimation I had ever received that my conduct and that of my bro- 
ther the Duke of York, during Your Majesty's late lamented illness, had 
brought on us the heavy misfortune of Your Majesty's displeasure. I 
should be wholly unworthy the return of Your Majesty's confidence and 
good opinion, which will ever be the first objects of my life, if I could 
have read the passage I refer to in that letter without the deepest sorrow 
and regret for the effect produced on Your Majesty's mind ; though at the 
same time I felt the firmest persuasion that Your Majesty's generosity and 
goodness would never permit that effect to remain, without affording us an 
opportunity of knowing what had been urged against us, of replying to our 
accusers, and of justifying ourselves, if the means of justification were in 
our power. 

'' Great however as my impatience and anxiety were on this subject, I 
felt it a superior consideration not to intrude any unpleasing or agitating 
discussions upon Your Majesty's attention, during an excursion devoted to 
the ease and amusement necessary for the re-establishment of Your Majesty's 
health. I determined to sacrifice my own feelings, and to wait with resig- 
nation till the fortunate opportunity should arrive, when Your Majesty's 
own paternal goodness would, I was convinced, lead you even to invite your 
sons to that fair hearing, which your justice would not deny to the mean- 
est individual of your subjects. In this painful interval I have employed my- 
self in drawing up a full statement and account of my conduct during the 
period alluded to, and of the motives and circumstances which influenced 
me. Wnen these shall be humbly submitted to Your Majesty's considera- 
tion, I may be possibly found to have erred in judgment, and to have acted 
on mistaken principles, but I have the most assured conviction that I shall 
not be found to have been deficient in that duteous affection to Your Ma- 
jesty which nothing shall ever diminish. Anxious for every thing that 
may contribute to the comfort and satisfaction of Your Majesty's mind, I 
cannot omit this opportunity of lamenting those appearances of a less 
gracious disposition in the Queen, towards my brothers and myself, than 
we were accustomed to experience ; and to assure Your Majesty that if 



84 MEMOIRS OF THP] LIFE OF THE 

by your affectionate interposition these most unpleasant sensations &nould 
be happily removed, it would be an event not less grateful to our minds 
than satisfactory to Your Majesty's own benign disposition. I will not long- 
er, &c. &c. 

^- G. P.'' 

The Statement here announced by His Royal Highness (a copy 
of which I have seen, occupying, with its Appendix, near a hun- 
dred folio pages), is supposed to have been drawn up by Lord 
Minto. 

To descend from documents of such high import to one of a 
much humbler nature, the following curious memorial was pre- 
sented this year to Mr. Sheridan, by a literary gentleman whom 
the Whig party thought it worth while to employ in their ser- 
vice, and who, as far as industry went, appears to have been not un- 
worthy of his hire. Simonides is said to be the first author that 
ever wTote for pay, but Simonides little dreamt qf the perfection 
to which his craft would one day be brought. 

Memorial for Dr. W, 2\* Fitzroy-streety Fitzroy-Ohapel. 

" In May, 1787, Dr. Parr, in the name of his political friends, engaged 
Dr. T. to embrace those opportunities, which his connections with booksel- 
lers and periodical publications might afford him, of supporting the prin- 
ciples of their party, Mr. Sheridan in August, 1787, gave two notes, 50/. 
each, to Dr. T. for the first year's service, which notes were paid at different 
periods — the first by Mr. Sheridan at Brookes's, in January, 1788, the second 
by Mr. Windham in May, 1788. Mr. Sheridan, in different conversations 
encouraged Dr. T. to go on with the expectation of a like sum yearly, or 
50Z. half yearly. Dr. T. with this encouragement engaged in different pub- 
lications for the purpose of this agreement. He is charged for the most 
part with the Political and Historical articles in the Analytic Review, and 
he also occasionally writes the Political Appendix to the English Review, 
of which particularly he wrote that for April last, and that for June last. 
He also every week writes an abridgment of Politics for the Whitehall 
Evening Post, and a Political Review every month for a Sunday paper en- 
titled the Review and Sunday Advertiser. In a Romance, entitled ' Mam- 

* This industrious Scotchman (of whose name I have only given the initials) was not 
without some share of humor. On hearing that a certain modern philosopher had carried 
his belief in the perfectibility of all living things so far, as to say that he did not despair 
of seeing the day when tigers themselves might be educated, Dr. T. exclaimed, " I should 
like dearly to see him in a cage wiUi tnva of his pupils 1" 



EIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 85 

moth, or Human Nature Displayed, &c.,' Dr. T. has shown how mindful he 
is on all occasions of his engagements to those who confide in him. He has 
also occasionally moved other engines, which it would be tedious and might 
appear too trifling to mention. Dr. T. is not ignorant that uncommon char- 
ges have happened in the course of this last year, that is, the year prece- 
ding May, 1789. Instead of 100/., therefore, he will be satisfied with 50/. 
for that year, provided that this abatement shall not form a precedent 
against his claim of 100/. annually, if his further services shall be deemed 
acceptable. There is one point on which Dr. T. particularly reserved him- 
self, namely, to make no attack on Mr. Hastings, and this will be attested 
by Dr. Parr, Mr. Sheridan, and, if the Doctor rightly recollects, by Mr. 
Windham. 

" Fitzroy-street, 2lst July, 1789." 

Taking into account all the various circumstances that con- 
curred to glorify this period of Sheridan's life, we may allow our- 
selves, I think, to pause upon it as the apex of the pyramid, and, 
whether we consider his fame, his talents, or his happiness, may 
safely say, " Here is their highest point." 

The new splendor which his recent triumphs in eloquence had 
added to a reputation already so illustrious, — the power which he 
seemed to have acquired over the future destinies of the country, 
by his acknowledged influence in the councils of the Heir Appa- 
rent, and the tribute paid to him, by the avowal both of friends 
and foes, that he had used this influence in the late trying crisis 
of the Regency, with a judgment and delicacy that proved him 
worthy of it, — all these advantages, both brilliant and solid, 
which subsequent circumstances but too much tended to weaken, 
at this moment surrounded him in their newest lustre and 
promise. 

He was just now, too, in the first enjoyment of a feeling, of 
which habit must have aflerwards dulled the zest, namely, the 
proud consciousness of having surmounted the disadvantages of 
birth and station, and placed himself on a level with the highest 
and noblest of the land. This footing in the society of the great 
he could only have attained by parliamentary eminence ;- — as a 
mere writer, \vith all his genius, he never would have been thus 
admitted ad eundem among them. Talents, in literature or sci- 
ence, unassisted by the advantages of birth, may lead to associa- 



86 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

tion with the great, but rarely to equality ; — it is a passport 
through the well-guarded frontier, but no title to naturalization 
within. By him, who has not been born among them, this can 
only be achieved by politics. In that arena, which they look upon 
as their own, the Legislature of the land, let a man of genius, like 
Sheridan, but assert his supremacy, — at once all these barriers 
of reserve and pride give way, and he takes, by storm, a station 
at their side, which a Shakspeare or a Newton would but havi> 
enjoyed by courtesy. 

In fixing upon this period of Sheridan's life, as the most shin- 
ino: asra of his talents as well as his fame, it is not meant to be 
denied that in his subsequent warfare with the Minister, during 
the stormy time of the French Revolution, he exhibited a prow- 
ess of oratory no less suited to that actual service, than his elo- 
quence on the trial of Hastings had been to such lighter tilts and 
tournaments of peace. But the effect of his talents was far less 
striking ; — the current of feeling through England was against 
him ; — and, however greatly this added to the merit of his efforts, 
it deprived him of that echo from the public heart, by which the 
voice of the orator is endued with a sort of multiplied life, and, 
as it were, survives itself. In the panic, too, that followed the 
French Revolution, all eloquence, but that from the lips of Power, 
was disregarded, and the voice of him at the helm was the only 
one listened to in the storm. 

Of his happiness, at the period of which we are speaking, in the 
midst of so much success and hope, there can be but little doubt. 
Though pecuniary embarrassment, as appears from his papers, 
had already begun to weave its fatal net around him, there was 
as yet little more than sufficed to give exercise to his ingenuity, 
and the resources of the Drury-Lane treasury were still in full 
nightly flow. The charms, by which his home was embellished, 
were such as few other homes could boast ; and, if any thing made 
it less happy than it ought to be, the cause was to be found in the 
very brilliancy of his life and attractions, and in those triumphs 
out of the sphere of domestic love, to which his vanity, perhaps, 
oftener than his feelings, impelled him. 



EIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 87 

Among his own inc: mediate associates, the gaiety of his spirits 
amounted almost to boyishness. He deh'ghted in all sorts of 
dramatic tricks and disguises ; and the lively parties, with which 
his country-house was always filled, were kept in momentary ex- 
pectation of some new device for their mystification or amuse- 
ment.* It was not unusual to dispatch a man and horse seven or 
eight miles for a piece of crape or a mask, or some other such 
trifle for these frolics. His friends Tickell and Richardson, both 
men of wit and humor, and the former possessing the same 
degree of light animal spirits as himself, were the constant com- 
panions of all his social hours, and kept up with him that ready 
rebound of pleasantry, without which the play of wit languishes. 

There is a letter, written one night by Richardson at Tun- 
bridge,! (after waiting five long hours for Sheridan,) so full of 
that mixture of melancholy and humor, which chequered the 
mind of this interesting man, that, as illustrative of the character 
of one of Sheridan's most intimate friends, it may be inserted 
here : — 

" Dear Sheridan, Half-past nine, Mount Ephraim. 

" After you had been gone an hour or two I got moped damnably. Per- 
haps there is a sympathy between the corporeal and the mind's eye. In 
the Temple I can't see far before me, and seldom extend my speculations 
on things to come into any fatiguing sketch of reflection. — From your win- 

* To give some idea of the youthful tone of this society, I shall mention one out of many 
anecdotes related to me by persons who had themselves been ornaments of it. The la- 
dies having one evening received the gentlemen in masquerade dresses, which, with their 
obstinate silence, made it impossible to distinguish one from the other, the gentlem.en, in 
Iheir turn, invited the ladies, next evening, to a similar trial of conjecture on themselves ; 
and notice being given that they were ready dressed, Mrs. Sheridan and her companions 
were admitted into the dining room, where they found a parly of Turks, sitting silent 
and masked round the table. After a long course of the usual guesses, exclamations, 
&c. &c., and each lady having taken the arm of the person she was most sure of, they 
heard a burst of laughter through the half-open door, and looking there, saw the gentle- 
men themselves in their proper persons, — the masks, upon whom they had been lavishing 
their sagacity, being no other than the maid-servants of the house, who had been thus 
dressed up to deceive them. 

I In the year 1790, when Mrs. Sheridan was trying the waters of Tunbridge for her 
health. In a letter to Sheridan's sister from this place, dated September, 1790, she says, 
" I drink the waters once a da}'-, and ride and drive all the forenoon, which makes mo 
ravenous when I return. I feel I am in very good health, and I am told that I am in high 
l^eauty, two circumstances which ought and do put me in high good humor," 



88 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

dow, however, there was a tedious scope of black atmosphere, that I think 
won my mind into a sort of fellow-travellership, pacing me again through 
the cheerless waste of the past, and presenting hardly one little rarified 
cloud to give a dim ornament to the future ; — not a star to be seen ; — no 
permanent light to gild my horizon ; — only the fading helps to transient 
gaiety in the lamps of Tunbridge ; — no Law coffee-house at hand, or any 
other house of relief ; — no antagonist to bicker one into a control of one's 
cares by a successful opposition,* nor a softer enemy to soothe one into an 
oblivion of them. 

'' It is damned foolish for ladies to leave their scissors about ; — the frail 
thread of a worthless life is soon snipped. I wish to God my fate had 
been true to its first destination, and made a parson of me ; — I should have 
made an excellent country Joll. I think I can, with confidence, pronounce 
the character that would have been given of me : — He was an indolent 
good-humored man, civil at all times, and hospitable at others, namely, 
when he was able to be so, which, truth to say, happened but seldom. His 
sermons were better than his preaching, and his doctrine better than his 
life ; though often grave, and sometimes melancholy, he nevertheless loved 
a joke, — the more so when overtaken in his cups, which, a regard to the 
faith of history compels us to subjoin, fell out not unfrequently. He had 
more thought than was generally imputed to him, though it must be ov/ned 
no man olive ever exercised thought to so little purpose. Rebecca, his 
v;ife, the daughter of an opulent farmer in the neighborhood of his small 
living, brought him eighteen children ; and he now rests with those who, 
being rather not absolutely vicious than actively good, confide in the 
bounty of Providence to strike a mild average between the contending ne- 
gations of their life, and to allow them in their future state, what he or- 

* Richardson was remarkable for his love of disputation ; and Tickell, when hard pressed 
by him in argument, used often, as a last resource, to assume the voice and manner of 
Mr. Fox, which he had the power of mimicking so exactly, that Richardson confessed 
he sometimes stood awed and silenced by the resem.blance. 

This disputatious humor of Richardson was once turned to account by Sheridan in a 
very characteristic manner. Having had a hackney-coach in employ for five or six 
hours, and not being provided with the means of paying it, he happened to espy Richard- 
son in the street, and proposed to take him in the coach some part of his way. Tlie offer 
being accepted, Sheridan lost no time in starting a subject of conversation, on which he 
knew his companion was sure to become argumentative and animated. Having, by 
well-managed contradiction, brought him to the proper pitch of excitement, he affected 
to grow impatient and angry, himself, and saying that "he could not think of staying in 
the same coach with a person that would use such language," pulled the check-string, 
and desired the coachman to Jet him out. Ricliardson, wholly occupied with the argu- 
ment, and regarding the retreat of his opponent as an acknowledgment of defeat, slill 
pressed his point, and even hollowed " more last words" through the coach-window after 
Sheridan, who, walking quietly home, left the poor disputant responsible for the hea\7 
mre of the coach, 



RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 89 

daiued them in this earthly pilgrimage, a snug neutrality and a useless re- 
pose. — I had written thus far, absolutely determined, under an irresistible 
influence of the megrims, to set off for London on foot, when, accidentally 
searching for a cardialgic, to my great delight, I discovered three fugitive 
sixpences, headed by a vagrant shilling, immergedin the heap in my waist- 
coat pocket. This discovery gave an immediate elasticity to my mind ; 
and I have therefore devised a scheme, worthier the improved state of my 
spirits, namely, to swindle your servants out of a horse, under the pretence 
of a ride upon the heath, and to jog on contentedly homewards. So, un- 
der the protection of Providence, and the mercy of footpads, I trust we 
shall meet again to-morrow ; at all events, there is nothing huffish in this ; 
for, whether sad or merry, I am always, 

" Most affectionately yours, 

"J. Richardson. 

*• P. S. Your return only confirmed me in my resolution of going ; for I 
had worked myself, in five hours solitude, into such a state of nervous mel- 
ancholy, that I found I could not help the meanness of crying, even if any 
one looked me in the face. I am anxious to avoid a regular conviction of 
so disreputable an infirmity ;— besides, the night has become quite plea- 
sant." 

Between Tickell and Sheridan there was a never-ending " skir- 
mish of wit," both verbal and practical ; and the latter kind, in 
particular, was carried on between them with all the waggery, 
and, not unfrequently, the malice of school-boys.* Tickell, much 
less occupied by business than his friend, had always some poli- 
tical ^ez^a; d' esprit on the anvil ; and sometimes these trifles were 
produced by them jointly. The following string of pasquinades 
so well known in political circles, and written, as the reader will 
perceive, at different dates, though principally by Sheridan, owes 
some of its stanzas to Tickell, and a few others, I believe, to Lord 
John Townshend. I have strung together, without regard to 

* On one occasion, Sheridan having covered the floor of a dark passage, leading from 
the drawing room, with all the plates and dishes of the house, ranged closely together, 
provoked his unconscious play-fellow to pursue him into the midst of them. Ha\'ingleft 
a path for his own escape, he passed through easily, but Tickell, railing at full length into 
me ambuscade, was very much cut in several places. The next day. Lord John Towns- 
hend, on paying a visit to the bed-side of Tickell, found him covered over with patches, 
and indignantly vowing vengeance against Sheridan for this unjustifiable trick. In the 
midst of his anger, however, he could not help exclaiming, with the true iQ"ii\n^ of aa 
am.uteur of this sort of mischief, " but how amazingly well done it was 1" 



90 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

chronology, the best of these detached lampoons. Time having 
removed their venom, and with it, in a great degree, their wit, 
they are now, like dried snakes, mere harmless objects of curi- 
osity. 

" Johnny W— Iks, Johnny W— Iks,* 

Thou greatest of bilks, 
How chang'd are the notes you now sing 1 

Your fam'd Forty-five 

Is Prerogative, 
And your blasphemy, ' God vsave the Kis£,^ 

Johnny W — ±s, 
And your blasphemy, ' God save the King.' '* 

"JackCh -ch— 11, Jack Ch— ch— 11, 
The town sure you search ill. 
Your mob has disgraced all your brags j 
When next you draw out 
Your hospital rout, 
Do, prithee, afford them clean rags, 

Jack Ch— ch— 11, 
Do, prithee, afford them clean rags." 

" Captain K — th. Captain K — th. 
Keep your tongue 'twixt your teeth, 
Lest bed-chamber tricks you betray ; 
And, if teeth you want more, 
Why, my bold Commodore, — 
You may borrow of Lord G — 11 — y, 

Captain K — th, 
You may borrow of Lord G — 11 — y." 

" t Joe M— wb — y, Joe M — wb — y. 
Your throat sure must raw be. 
In striving to make yourself heard ; 
But it pleased not the pigs. 
Nor the Westminster Whigs, 
That your Knighthood should utter one word, 

Joe M — wb — y. 
That your Knighthood should utter one word." 
* In Sheridan's copy of the stanzas written by him in this metre at the time of the 
Union, (beginning " Zooks, Harry! zooks, Harry !" he entitled them, ''An adrairai)l« 
new ballad, which goes excellently well to the tune of 

"Mrs.Arne, Mrs. Arne, 
It gives me concaTTi," &c. 
t This stanza and, I rather think, the next were by Lord John Townshend. 



BIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 91 



% 



^' M — ntm — res, M — ntm — res, 
Whom nobody for is, 
And for whom we none of us care ; 
From Dublin you came — 
It had much been the same 
If your Lordship had staid where you were, 

M — ntm— res, 
If your Lordship had staid where you were.'^ 

" Lord — gl — y, Lord — gl — y. 
You spoke mighty strongly — 
Who you are^ tho', all people admire ! 
But 1^11 let you depart, 
For I believe in my heart, 
You had rather they did not inquire, 

Lord 0— gl— y, 
You had rather they did not inqure." 

<^ Gl— nb— e, Gl— nb— e. 

What's good for the scurvy ? 

For ne'er be your old trade forgot — 

In your arms rather quarter 

A pestle and mortar, 

And your crest be a spruce gallipot, 

Gl_nb— e. 
And your crest be a spruce gallipof 

^^ Gl— nb— e, Gl— nb— e. 
The world's topsy-turvy, 
Of this truth you're the fittest attester ; 
For, who can deny 
That the Low become High, 
When the King makes a Lord of Silvester, 

Gl— nl>— e, 
When the King makes a Lord of Silvester.'' 

^'Mr. P— 1, Mr. P— 1, 

In return for your zeal, 
I am told they have dubb'd you Sir Bob ; 

Having got wealth enough 

By coarse Manchester stufi". 
For honors you'll now drive a job, 

Mr. P— 1, 
For honors you'll now drive a job.'* 



92 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THl 

" Oh poor B — ks, oh poor B — ks, 
Still condemned to the ranks, 
Nor e'en yet from a private promoted ; 
Pitt ne'er will relent, 
Though he knows you repent, ; 
Having once or twice honestly voted, 

Poor B — ks, 
Having once or twice honestly voted." 

" Dull H— 1— y, dull H— 1— y, 
Your audience feel ye 
A speaker of very great weight. 

And they wish you were dumb. 
When, with ponderous hum. 
You lengthened the drowsy debate. 

Dull H— 1— y, 
You lengthened the drowsy debate." 

There are about as many more of these stanzas, written at 
different intervals, according as new victims, w^ith good names 
for rhyming, presented themselves, — the metre being a most 
temptmg medium for such lampoons. There is, indeed, appended 
to one of Sheridan's copies of them, a long list (like a Tablet of 
Proscription), containing about fifteen other names marked out 
for the same fate; and it will be seen by the following specimen 
that some of them had a very narrow escape : 

^^WillC— rt— s " 

<^y_ns— t— t, Y_ns— t— t — for little thou fit art." 

" Will D — nd — s, Will D — nd — s, — were you only an ass." 

" L — ghb — ^h, — thorough." 

^' Sam H — rsl — y, Sam H — ^rsl — y, coarsely." 

'• P — ttym — n- P — ttym — n, — speak truth, if you can." 

But it was not alone for such lively purposes* that Sheridan 
and his two friends drew upon their joint wits ; they had also but 

* As I have been luenlioning some instances of Sheridan's love of practical jests, I 
shall take ihis opportunity of adding one more anecdote, which I believe is pretty well 
known, but which I have had the advantage of hearing from the person on whom the 
joke was inflicted. 

The Rev^Mr.O'B (afterwards Bishop of ■) having arrived to dinner at 

Sheridan's country-house, near Osterley, where, as usual, a gay party was collected. 



RIGHT HOK. RICHARD BRIKSLEY SHERIDAN. 93 

too much to do with subjects of a far different nature — with debts, 
bonds, judgments, writs, and all those other humiliating matters 
of fact, that bring Law and Wit so often and so unnaturally in 
contact. That they were serviceable to each other, in their de- 
fensive alliance against duns, is fully proved by various docu- 
ments ; and I have now before me artides of agreement, dated 
in 1787, by which Tickell, to avert an execution from the Theatre, 
bound himself as security for Sheridan in the sum of 250^., — 
the arrears of an annuity charged upon Sheridan's moiety of the 
property. So soon did those pecuniary difficulties, by which his 
peace and character were afterwards undermined, begin their 
operations. 

Yet even into transactions of this nature, little as they are 
akin to mirth, the following letter of Richardson will show that 
these brother wits contrived to infuse a portion of gaiety : 

" Dear Sheridan, Essex-Street^ Saturday evening, 

*' I had a terrible long batch with Bobby this morning, after I wrote to 
you by Francois. I have so far succeeded that he has agreed to continue 
the day of trial as we call it (that is, in vulgar, unlearned language, to put 
it off) from Tuesday till Saturday. He demands, as preliminaries, that 
Wright's bill of 500/. should be given up to him, as a prosecution had been 

(consisting of General Burgoyne, Mrs. Crewe, Tickell, &c.) it was proposed that on the 
next day (Sunday) the Rev. Gentleman should, on gaining the consent of the resident 
clergyman, give a specimen of his talents as a preacher in the village church. On his 
objecting that he was not provided with a sermon, his host offered to write one for him, 
if he would consent to preach it ; and, the offer being accepted, Sheridan left the com- 
pany early, and did not return for the remainder of the evening. The following morning 

Mr. O'B found the manuscript by his bed-side, tied together neatly (as he described 

it) with riband ; — the subject of the discourse being the "Abuse of Riches." Having 
read it over and corrected some theological errors, (such as *'it is easier for a camel, OjS 
Moses says," &c.) he delivered the sermon in his most impressive style, much to the de- 
light of his own party, and to the satisfaction, as he unsuspectingly flattered himself, of 
all the rest of the congregation, among whom was Mr. Sheridan's wealthy neighbor Mr. 

C . 

Some months afterwards, however, Mr. O'B perceived that the family of Mr. 

C , with whom he had previously been intimate, treated him with marked coldness ; 



and, on his expressing some innocent wonder at the circumstance, was at length informed, 
to his dismay, by General Burgoyne, that the sermon which Sheridan had written for him 

was, throughout, a personal attack upon Mr. C , who had at that time rendered 

himself very unpopular in the neighborhood by some harsh conduct to the poor, and to 
whom every one in the church, except the unconscious preacher, applied almost every 
sentence of the sermon . 



^4 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

commenced against him, which, however, he has stopped by an injunction 
from the Court of Chancery. This, if the transaction be as he states it, ap 
pears reasonable enough. He insists, besides, that the bill should undergo 
the most rigid examination ; that you should transmit your objections, to 
which he will send answers, (for the point of a personal interview has not 
been yet carried.) and that the whole amount at last, whatevjsr it may be, 
should have your clear and satisfied approbation : — nothing to be done with- 
out this — almighty honor ! 

'" All these things being done, I desired to know what was to be the re- 
sult at last : — ' Surely, after having carried so many points, you will think 
it only common decency to relax a little as to the time of payment ? You 
will not cut your pound of flesh the nearest from the merchant's heart V 
To this Bobides, ' I must have 2000/. put in a shape of practicable use, and 
payment immediately ; — for the rest I will accept security.' This was 
strongly objected to by me, as Jewish in the extreme ; but, however, so we 
parted. You will think with me, I hope, that something has been done, 
however, by this meeting. It has opened an access to a favorable adjust- 
ment, and time and trist may do much. I am to see him again on Monday 
morning at two, so pray don't go out of town to-morrow without my seeing 
you. The matter is of immense consequence. I never knew till to-day 
that the process had been going on so long. I am convinced he could force 
you to trial next Tuesday with all your infirmities green upon your head ; 
so pray attend to it. 

" B. B. Sheridan, Esq. *' Yours ever, 

'' Lower Grosvenor-Street " J. Richardson." 

This letter was written in the year 1792, when Sheridan's in- 
volvements bad begun to thicken around him more rapidly. 
Tliere is another letter, about the same date, still more charac 
teristic, — where, after beginning in evident anger and distress of 
mind, the writer breaks off, as if irresistibly, into the old strain oj 
playfulness and good humor. 

" Dear Sheridan, Wednesday, Essex-Street, July 30. 

" I write to you with more unpleasant feelings than I ever did in my IIL . 
Westly, after having told me for the last three weeks that nothing w*.*^ 
wanting for my accommodation but your consent, having told me so, so late 
as Friday, sends me word on Monday that he would not do it at all. In four 
days I have a cognovit expires for 200Z. I can't suffer my family to be turn- 
ed into the streets if I can help it. I have no resource but my abilities, 
such as they are. I certainly mean to write something in the course of the 
summer. As a matter of business and bargain I can have no higher hope 



BIGHT HON. KICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 95 

about it than that you won't suffer by it. However, if you won't take it 
somebody else must, for no human consideration will induce me to leave 
any means untried, that may rescue my family from this impending misfor 
tune. 

^' For the sake of convenience you will probably give me the importance 
of construing this into an incendiary letter. I wish to God you may, and 
order your treasurer to deposit the acceptance accordingly ; for nothing 
can be so irksome to me as that the nations of the earth should think there 
had been any interruption of friendship between you and me ; and though 
that would not be the case in fact, both being influenced, I must believe, 
^by a necessity which we could not control, yet the said nations would so in- 
terpret it. If I don't hear from you before Friday, I shall conclude that 
you leave me in this dire scrape to shift for myself. 

'^ R, B. Sheridan, Esq. " Yours ever, 

** hleworth, Middlesex, " J. Richardson. ^^ 



9fi MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 



CHAPTER lY. 

FllENCH REVOLUTION. — MR. BURKE. — HIS BREACH WITH 
MR. SHERIDAN. — DISSOLUTION OF PARLIAMENT. — MR. 
BURKE AND MR. FOX. — RUSSIAN ARMAMENT. — ROYAL 
SCOTCH BOROUGHS. 

We have now to consider the conduct and opinions of Mr. 
Sheridan, during the measures and discussions consequent upon 
the French Revolution, — an event, by which the minds of men 
throughout all Europe were thrown into a state of such feverish 
excitement, that a more than usual degree of tolerance should 
be exercised towards the errors and extremes into which all par 
ties were hurried during the paroxysm. There was, indeed, no 
rank or class of society, whose interests and passions were not 
deeply involved in the question. The powerful and the rich, 
both of State and Church, must naturally have regarded with 
dismay the advance of a political heresy, whose path they saw 
strewed over with the broken talismans of rank and authority. 
Many, too, with a disinterested reverence for ancient institutions, 
trembled to see them thus approached by rash hands, whose tal- 
ents for rum were sufficiently certain, but whose powers of re- 
construction were yet to be tried. On the other hand, the easy 
triumph of a people over their oppressors was an example which 
could not fail to excite the hopes of the many as actively as the 
fears of the few. The great problem of the natural rights of 
mankind seemed about to be solved in a manner most flattering 
to the majority ; the zeal of the lover of liberty was kindled 
into enthusiasm, by a conquest achieved for his cause upon an 
arena so vast; and many, who before would have smiled at the 
^octriDQ of human perfectibility, now imagined they saw, in 



niGHT HOIST. RICHARD :gRTNSLfiY SHERIDAN. 97 

what the Revolution performed and promised, almost enough to 
sanction the indulgence of that splendid dream. It was natural, 
too, that the greater portion of that unemployed, and, as it were, 
homeless talent, which, in all great communities, is ever abroad 
on the wing, uncertain where to settle, should now swarm round 
the light of the new principles, — while all those obscure but 
ambitious spirits, who felt their aspirmgs clogged by the medium 
in which they were sunk, would as naturally welcome such a 
state of political effervescence, as might enable them, like enfran- 
chised air, to mount at once to the surface. 

Amidst all these various interests, imaginations, and fears, 
which were brought to life by the dawn of the French Revolu- 
tion, it is not surprising that errors and excesses, both of con- 
duct and opmion, should be among the first products of so new 
and sudden a movement of the whole civilized world ; — that the 
friends of popular rights, presuming upon the triumph that had 
been gained, should, in the ardor of pursuit, push on the van- 
guard of their principles, somewhat farther than was consistent 
with prudence and safety ; or that, on the other side, Authority 
and its supporters, alarmed by the inroads of the Revolutionary 
spirit, should but the more stubbornly intrench themselves in 
established abuses, and make the dangers they apprehended from 
liberty a pretext for assailing its very existence. 

It was not long before these effects of the French Revolution 
began to show themselves very strikingly in the politics of Eng- 
land ; and, singularly enough, the two extreme opinions, to which, 
as I have just remarked, that disturbing event gave rise, instead 
of first appearing, as might naturally be expected, the one on 
the side of Government, and the other on that of the Opposition, 
both broke out simultaneously in the very heart of the latter 
body. 

On such an imagination as that of Burke, the scenes now pass- 
ing in France were every way calculated to make a most vivid 
impression. So susceptible was he, indeed, of such impulses, 
and so much under the control of the imaginative department of 
his intellect, that, whatever might have been the accidental mood 

VOL. n. 5 



98 MEMOIHS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

of hit> mind, at the moment when this astounding event first 
burst upon him, it would most probably have acted as a sort of 
mental catalepsy, and fixed his reason in the very attitude in 
which it found it. He had, however, been prepared for the part 
which he now took by much more deep and grounded causes. It 
was rather from circumstances than from choice, or any natural 
affinity, that Mr. Burke had ever attached himself to the popular 
party in politics. There was, in truth, nothing democratic about 
him but his origin; — his tastes were all on the side of the splen- 
did and the arbitrary. The chief recommendation of the cause 
of India to his fancy and his feelings was that it involved the fate 
of ancient dynasties, and invoked retribution for the downfall 
of thrones and princedoms, to which his imagination, always 
most affected by objects at a distance, lent a state and splendor 
that did not, in sober reality, belong to them. Though doomed 
to make Whiggism his habitual haunt, he took his perch at all 
times on its loftiest branches, as far as possible away from popu- 
lar contact ; and, upon most occasions, adopted a sort of baro- 
nial view of liberty, as rather a question lying between the 
Throne and the Aristocracy, than one in v/hich the people had a 
right to any efficient voice or agency. Accordingly, the question 
of Parliamentary Reform, from the first moment of its agitation, 
found in him a most decided opponent. 

This inherent repugnance to popular principles became natu- 
rally heightened into impatience and disgust, by the long and 
fruitless warfare which he had waged under their banner, and 
the uniform ill success v\^ith which they had blasted all his strug- 
gles for wealth and power. Nor was he in any better temper 
with his associates in the cause, — having found that the ascen- 
dancy, which he had formerly exercised over them, and which, 
in some degree, consoled him for the want of official dominion, 
was of late considerably diminished, if not wholly transferred 
to others. Sheridan, as has been stated, was the most promi- 
nent object of his jealousy ; — and it is curious to remark how 
much, even in feelings of this description, the aristocratical biaf 
of his mind betrayed itself For, though Mr. Fox, too, had 



' RIGHT HON. RICHARD BKi:?fSLEY SHERIDAK. 99 

overtaken and even passed him in the race, assuming that station 
in politics which he himself had previously held, yet so para- 
mount did those claims of birth and connection, by which the new 
leader came recommended, appear in his eyes, that he submitted 
to be superseded by him, not only without a murmur, but cheer 
fully. To Sheridan, however, who had no such hereditary pass- 
port to pre-eminence, he could not give way without heart-burn- 
ing and humiliation ; and to be supplanted thus by a rival son 
of earth seemed no less a shock to his superstitious notions 
about rank, than it was painful to his feelings of self love and 
pride. 

Such, as far as can be ascertained by a distant observer of 
those times, was the temper in which the first events of the Re 
volution found the mind of this remarkably man ; — and, power 
fully as they would, at any time, have appealed to his imagination 
and prejudices, the state of irritability to which he had been 
wTOught by the causes already enumerated peculiarly predis- 
posed him, at this moment, to give way to such impressions 
without restraint, and even to welcome as a timely relief to his 
pride, the mighty vent thus afforded to the " splendida hilis''' with 
which it was charged. 

There was indeed much to animate and give a zest to the new 
part which he now took. He saw those principles, to which he 
owed a deep grudge, for the time and the talents he had wasted 
in their service, now embodied in a shape so wild an^ alarm- 
ing, as seemed to justify him, on grounds of public safety, 
in turning against them the whole powers of his mind, and 
thus enabled him, opportunely, to dignify desertion, by throw- 
ing the semblance of patriotism and conscientiousness round 
the reality of defection and revenge. He saw the party, too, 
who, from the moment they had ceased to be ruled by him, 
were associated only in his mJnd with recollections of unpopu- 
larity and defeat, about to adopt a line of politics which his long 
knowledge of the people of England, and his sagacious foresight 
of the consequences of the French Revolution, fully convinced 
him would lead to the same barren and mortifying results. On 



100 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

tne contrary, the cause to which he proffered his alliance, would, 
he was equally sure, by arraying on its side all the rank, riches, 
and religion of Europe, enable him at length to feel that sense 
of power and triumph, for which his domineering spirit had so 
long panted in vain. In this latter hope, indeed, of a speedy 
triumph over Jacobinism, his temperament, as was often the 
case, outran his sagacity ; for, while he foresaw clearly that the 
dissolution of social order in France would at last harden into a 
military tyranny, he appeared not to be aware that the violent 
measures which he recommended against her would not only hasten 
this formidable result, but bind the whole mass of the people 
into union and resistance during the process. 

Lastly — To these attractions, of various kinds, with which the 
cause of Thrones was now encircled in the eyes of Burke, must 
be added one, which, however it may still further disenchant our 
views of his conversion, cannot wholly be omitted among the in- 
ducements to his change, — and this was the strong claim upon the 
gratitude of government, which his seasonable and powerful advo- 
cacy in a crisis so difficult established for him, and which the nar- 
row and embarrassed state of his circumstances rendered an ob- 
ject by no means of secondary importance in his views. Unfor- 
tunately, — from a delicate wish, perhaps, that the reward should 
not appear to come in too close coincidence with the service, — the 
pension bestowed upon him arrived too late to admit of his deriv- 
ing much more from it than the obloquy by which it was accom- 
panied. 

The consequence, as is well known, of the new course taken by 
Burke was that the speeches and writings which he henceforward 
produced, and in which, as usual, his judgment was run away with 
by his temper, form a complete contrast, in spirit and tendency, 
to all that he had put on record in the former part of his life. 
He has, indeed, left behind him t\>»o separate and distinct armo- 
ries of opinion, from which both Whig and Tory may furnish 
themselves with weapons, the most splendid, if not the most 
highly tempered, that ever Genius and Eloquence have conde- 
scended to bequeath to Party. He has thus too, by his own per- 



EIGHT HON. KICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 101 

sonal versatility, attained, in the world of politics, what Shaks- 
peare, by the versatility of his characters, achieved for the world 
in general, — namely, such a universality of application to all opin- 
ions and purposes, that it would be difficult for any statesman of 
any party to find himself placed in any situation, for which he 
could not select some golden sentence from Burke, either to 
strengthen his position by reasoning or illustrate and adorn it by 
fancy. While, therefore, our respect for the man himself is 
diminished by this want of moral identity observable through his 
life and writings, we are but the more disposed to admire that 
unrivalled genius, which could thus throw itself out in so many 
various directions with equal splendor and vigor. In general, 
political deserters lose their value and power in the very act, and 
bring little more than their treason to the new cause which they 
espouse : — 

"Fortisin armis 
Ccesaris Labienus erat ; nunc transfuga vilis.^^ 

But Burlce was mighty in either camp ; and it would have 
taken two great men to effect what he, by this division of himself, 
achieved. His mind, indeed, lies parted asunder in his works, 
like some vast continent severed by a convulsion of nature, — each 
portion peopled by its own giant race of opinions, differing alto- 
gether in features and language, and committed in eternal hostil- 
ity with each other. 

It was during the discussions on the Army Estimates, at the 
commencement of the session of 1790, that the difference between 
Mr. BurKc and his party in their views of the French Revolution 
first manifested itself. Mr. Fox having taken occasion to praise 
the late conduct of the French Guards in refusing to obey the dic- 
tates of the Court, and having declared that he exulted, " both 
from feelings and from principles," in the political change that had 
been brought about in that country, Mr. Burke, in answering him, 
entered fully, and, it must be owned, most luminously into the 
question, — expressing his apprehension, lest the example of 
Fran 3e, which had, at a former period, threatened England with 



102 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

the contagion of despotism, should now be the means of introdu- 
cing among her people the no less fatal taint of Democracy and 
Atheism. After son.e eloquent tributes of admiration to Mr, 
Fox, rendered more animated, perhaps, by the consciousness that 
they were the last offerings thrown into the open grave of their 
friendship, he proceeded to deprecate the effects which the lan- 
guage of his Eight Honorable Friend might have, in appearing to 
countenance the disposition observable among " some wicked per- 
sons" to " recommend an imitation of the French spirit of Re- 
form," and then added a declaration, equally remarkable for the 
insidious charge which it implied against his own party, and the 
notice of his approaching desertion which it conveyed to the other, 
— that " so strongly opposed was he to any the least tendency 
towards the means of introducing a democracy like that of the 
French, as well as to the end itself, that, much as it would afflict 
him, if Buch a thing should be attempted, and that any friend of 
?iis could concur in such measures (he was far, very far, from be- 
lieving they could), he would abandon his best friends, and join 
with his worst enemies to oppose either the means or the end." 

It is pretty evident, from these words, that Burke had already 
made up his mind as to the course he should j^ursue, and but de- 
layed his declaration of a total breach, in order to prepare the 
minds of the public for such an event, and, by waiting to take 
advantage of some moment of provocation, make the intempe- 
rance of others responsible for his own deliberate schism. Tlie 
reply of Mr. Fox was not such as could afford this opportunity ; 
— it was, on the contrary, full of candor and moderation, and re- 
pelled the implied charge of being a favorer of the new doctrines 
of France in the most decided, but, at the same time, most con- 
ciliatory terms. 

*'Did such a declaration/' he asked, "warrant the idea that he was a 
friend to Democracy ? He declared himself equally the enemy of all ab- 
solute forms of government, whether an absolute Monarchy, an absolute 
.Aristocracy, or an absolute Democracy. Ho was ad^^erse to all extremes., 
and a friend only to a mixed government like our own, in which, if the 
4ris ocracy, or indeed either of the three branches of the Constitution were 



RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 103 

destroyed, the good effect of the whole, and the happiness derived under 
it would, in his mind, be at an end." 

In returning, too, the praises bestowed upon him by his friend, 
he made the following memorable and noble acknowledgment of 
all that he liimself had gained by their intercourse : — 

'' Such (he said) was his sense of the judgment of his Right Honorable 
Friend, such his knowledge of his principles, such the value which he set 
upon them, and such the estimation in which he held hlsfriendyhip, that if 
he were to put all the political information which he had learned from books 
all which he had gained from science, and all which any knowledge of the 
world and its affairs had taught him, into one scale, and the improvement 
which he had derived from his Right Honorable Friend's instruction and 
conversation were placed in the other, he should be at a loss to decide to 
which to give the preference.' ' 

This, from a person so rich in acquirements as Mr. Fox, was 
the very highest praise, — nor, except in what related co the judg- 
ment and principles of his friend, was it at all exaggerated. The 
conversation of Burke must have been like the procession of a 
Roman triumph, exhibiting power and riches at every step — oc- 
casionally, perhaps, mingling the low Fescennine jest with the 
lofty music of its march, but glittering all over with the spoils of 
the whole ransacked world. 

Mr. Burke, in reply, after reiterating his praises of Mr. Fox, 
and the full confidence which he felt in his moderation and sa2;a- 
city, professed himself perfectly satisfied with the explanations 
that had been given. The conversation would thus have passed 
off without any explosion, had not Sheridan, who was well aware 
that against him, in particular, the charge of a tendency to the 
adoption of French principles was directed, risen immediately 
after, and by a speech warmly in favor of the Revolution and of 
the National Assembly, at once lighted the train in the mind of 
Burke, and brought the question, as far as regarded themselves, 
to an immediate issue. 

^' He differed," he said, '' decidedly, from his Right Honorable Friend 
in almost every word that he had uttered respecting the French Revolu 



104 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

tion. He conceived it to be as just a Revolution as ours, proceeding upoL 
as sound a principle and as just a provocation. He vehemently defended 
the general views and conduct of the National Assembly. He could not 
even understand what was meant by the charges against them of having 
overturned the laws, the justice, and the revenues of their country. Yv hat 
were their laws ? the arbitrary mandates of capricious despotism. What 
their justice ? the partial adjudications of venal magistrates. What their 
revenues ? national bankruptcy. This he thought the fundamental error 
of his Right Honorable Friend's argument, that he accused the National 
Assembly of creating the evils, which they had found existing in full de- 
formity at the first hour of their meeting. The public creditor had been 
defrauded ; the manufacturer was without employ ; trade was languishing ; 
famine clung upon the poor ; despair on all. In this situation, the wisdom 
and feelings of the nation were appealed to by the government ; and was it 
to be wondered at by Englishmen, that a people, so circumstanced, should 
search for the cause and source of all their calamities, or that they should 
find them in the arbitrary constitution of their government, and in the pro- 
digal and corrupt administration of their revenues ? For such an evil 
when proved, what remedy could be resorted to, but a radical amendment 
of the frame and fabric of the Constitution itself? This change was not the 
object and wish of the National Assembly only; it was the claim and cry of 
all France, united as one man for one purpose.'' 

All this is just and imanswera"ble — as indeed was the greater 
part of the sentiments which he uttered. But he seems to have 
failed, even more signally than Mr. Fox, in endeavoring to in- 
validate the masterly view which Burke had just taken of 
the Revolution of 1688, as compared, in its means and object, 
with that of France. There was, in truth, but little similarity 
between them, — the task of the former being to preserve liberty, 
tnat of the latter to destroy tyranny ; the one being a regulated 
movement of the Aristocracy against the Throne for the Nation, 
the other a tumultuous rising of the whole Nation against both 
for itself 

The reply of Mr. Burke was conclusive and peremptory, — • 
such, in short, as might be expected from a person who came 
prepared to take the first plausible opportunity of a rupture. He 
declared that " henceforth, his Honorable Friend and he were 
separated in politics," — complained that his arguments had been 
cruelly misrepresented, and that " the Honorable Gentleman had 



EIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN 105 

thought proper to charge him with being the advocate of des- 
potism.'' Having endeavored to defend himself from such an 
imputation, he concluded by saying, — 

" Was that a fair and candid mode of treating his arguments ? or was it 
what he ought to have expected in the mojnent of departed friendship i On 
the contrary, was it not evident that the Honorable Gentleman had made 
a sacrifice of his friendship, for the sake of catching some momentary popu- 
larity ? If the fact were such, even greatly as he should continue to admire 
the Honorable Gentleman's talents, he must tell him that his argument 
was chielly an argument ad invidiam, and all the applause for which he 
could hope from clubs was scarcely worth the sacrifice which he had chosen 
to make for so insignificant an acquisition."' 

I have given the circumstances of this Debate somewhat in 
detail, not only on account of its own interest and of the share 
which Mr. Sheridan took in it, but from its being the first scene 
of that great political schism, which in the following year as- 
sumed a still more serious aspect, and by which the policy of Mr. 
Pitt at length acquired a predominance, not speedily to be for- 
gotten in the annals of this country. 

Mr. Sheridan was much blamed for the unseasonable stimulant 
which, it was thought, his speech on this occasion had adminis- 
tered to the temper of Burke; nor can it be doubted that he had 
thereby, in some degree, accelerated the public burst of that 
feeling which had so long been treasured up against himself 
But, whether hastened or delayed, such a breach was ultimately 
inevitable ; the divergence of the parties once begun, it was in 
vain to think of restoring their parallelism. That some of their 
friends, however, had more sanguine hopes appears from an ef- 
fort which was made, within two days after the occurrence of 
this remarkable scene, to effect a reconciliation between Burke 
and Sheridan. The interview that took place on that occasion is 
thus described by Mr. Dennis O'Brien, one of the persons chiefly 
instrumental in the arrangements for it : — 

•* It appeared to the author of this pamphlet* that the difference between 
these tv7o great men would be a great evil to the country and to their 

* Entitled '' Utmm Horum." 
VOL II. ^* 



106 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

own party. Full of this persuasion he brought them both together the 
second night after the original contest in the House of Commons ; and car- 
ried them to Burlington House to Mr. Fox and the Duke of Portland, ac- 
cording to a previous arrangement. This interview, which can never be 
forgotttj by those who were present, lasted from ten o'clock at night until 
three in the morning, and afforded a very remarkable display of the extra- 
ordinary talents of the parties." 

It will easily be believed that to the success of this conciliatory 
effort the temper on one side would be a greater obstacle than 
even the hate on both. Mr. Sheridan, as if anxious to repel from 
himself the suspicion of having contributed to its failure, took an 
opportunity, during his speech upon the Tobacco Act, in the 
month of April following, to express himself in the most friendly 
terms of Mr. Burke, as " one, for whose talents and personal 
virtue he had the highest esteem, veneration, and regard, and 
with whom he might be allowed to differ in opinion upon the 
subject of France, persuaded, as he was, that they never could 
differ in principle." Of this and some other compliments of a 
similar nature, Mr. Burke did not deign to take the slightest no- 
tice — partly, from an implacable feeling towards him who offered 
them, and partly, perhaps, from a suspicion that they were in 
tended rather for the ears of the public than his own, and that, 
while this tendency to conciliation appeared on the surface, the 
under-current of feelino; and influence set all the other wav. 

Among the measures which engaged the attention of Mr. She- 
ridan during this session, the principal was a motion of his own 
for the repeal of the Excise Duties on Tobacco, which appears to 
have called forth a more than usual portion of his oratory, — his 
speeches on the subject occupying nearly forty pages. It is upon 
topics of this unpromising kind, and from the very effort, perhaps, 
to dignify and enliven them, that the peculiar characteristics of 
an orator are sometimes most racily brought out. To the Cider 
Tax we are indebted for one of the grandest bursts of the consti 
tutional spirit and eloquence of Lord Chatham ; and, in these 
orations of Sheridan upon Tobacco, we find examples of the two 
extreme varieties of his dramatic talent — both of the broad, 
patural humor of his farce, and the pointed, artificial wit of his 



RIGHT HO:^. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 107 

comedy. For instance, in representing, as one of the abuses that 
might arise from the discretionary power of remitting fines to 
manufactm^ers, the danger that those only should feel the indul- 
gence, who were found to be supporters of the exiVtiiig adminis 
tration,* he says : — 

" Were a man, whose stock had increased or dimini'i^hed beyo»3d the 
standard table in the Act, to attend the Commissioners and assort them 
that the weather alone had caused the increase or decrrase of the article, 
and that no fraud whatever had been used on the ocrasion, the Commis- 
sioners might say to him, ' Sir, you need not give joiivself so nuch trouble 
to prove your innocence ; — we see horH^ty in your orange cape.' But 
should a person of quite a different side in politics attend f</r the same 
purpose, the Commissioners might say, ^ Sir, jci\i are not to be believed ; 
we see fraud in your blue and buff, and it 'i impossible tbi^t you should 
not be a smuggler." 

Again, in stating the case between die manufacturers and the 
Minister, the former of whom obj<' ;ted to the Bill altogether, 
while the latter determined to i/: iserve its principle and only 
alter its form, he says : — 

" The manufacturers ask the Ryfht Honorable Gentleman, if he will 
consent to give up the principle ? Tho Right Honorable Gentleman an- 
swers, ' No ; the principle must r//. be abandoned, but do you inform me 
how I shall alter the Bill.' V '/',', the manufstcturers refused ; and they 
vrisely refused it in his opinion ; for, v/hat wag it but the Minister's saying, 
• I have a yoke to put abo'i^, \/vir necks— do you help me in fitting it on 
— only assist me with yoi^r '-' nowledge of the subject, and I'll fit you with 
the prettiest pair of fetters ^Aat ever wers seen in the world.' '^ 

As a specimen of h'-^; quaint and far-sought witticisms, the fol- 
lowing passage in t^ ? same spbech may vie with Trip's " Post- 
Obit on the blue and silver, (^'M3." — Having described the effects 
of the weather in increasing or decreasing the weight of the stock, 
beyond the ey^ct standard established in the Act, he adds, 

" The Com''!>iSsioners, before they could, in justice, levy such fines, 
ought to a^co^'taiQ that the weather is always in that precise state of heat 
or cold whirb the Act supposed it would be. They ought to make Christ- 

* A f rss of this kind formed the subject of a spirited Speech of Mr. Windham, in 1792. 
See h7/ Hpeeches, vol. I p. 207. 



108 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

mas give security for frost, take a bond for hot weather from August, and 
oblige damps and fogs to take out permits." 

It was in one of these speeches on the Tobacco Act, that he 
adverted with considerable warmth to a rumor, which, he com- 
plained, had been maliciously circulated, of a misunderstanding 
between himself and the Duke of Portland, in consequence (as 
the Report expresses it) of " a certain opposition affirmed to have 
been made by this Noble Duke, to some views or expectations 
which he (Mr. Sheridan) was said to have entertained." i_fter 
declaring that "there was not in these rumors one grain of truth,'' 
he added that — 

" He would not venture to state to the Committee the opinion that the 
Noble Duke was pleased to entertain of him, lest he should be accused of 
vanity in publishing what he might deem highly flattering. All that he 
would assert on this occasion was. that if he had it in his power to make 
the man whose good opinion he should most highly prize think flatteringly 
of him, he would have that man think of him precisely as the Noble Duke 
did, and then his wish on that subject would be most amply gratified.'^ 

As it is certain, that the feelings which Burke entertained to- 
wards Sheridan were now in some degree shared by all those who 
afterwards seceded from the party, this boast of the high opinion 
of the Duke of Portland must be taken with what, in Heraldry, 
is called Abatement — that is, a certain degree of diminution of 
the emblazonry. 

Among the papers of Mr. Sheridan, I find a letter addressed 
to him this year by one of his most distinguished friends, relative 
to the motions that had lately been brought forward for the re- 
lief of the Dissenters. The writer, w^hose alarm for the interest 
of the Church had somewhat disturbed his sense of liberality and 
justice, endeavors to impress upon Mr. Sheridan, and through 
him upon Mr. Fox, how undeserving the Dissenters were, as a 
political body, of the recent exertions on their behalf, and how 
ungratefully they had more than once requited the services which 
the Whigs had rendered them. For this latter charge there was 
but too much foundation in truth, how^ever ungenerous might be 
the deduction which the writer would draw from it, It is, lio 



RIGHT HON. RICHAKD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 109 

doubt, natural that large bodies of men, impatiently suffering 
under the ban of disqualification, should avail themselves, with- 
out much regard to persons or party, of every aid they can muster 
for their cause, and should (to use the words of an old Earl of 
Pembroke) " lean on both sides of the stairs to get up." But, 
it is equally natural .^at the occasional desertion and ingratitude, 
of which, in pursuit of this selfish policy, they are but too likely 
to be guilty towards their best friends, should, if not wholly in 
dispose the latter to their service, at least considerably moderate 
their zeal in a cause, where all parties alike seem to be considered 
but as instruments, and where neither personal predilections nor 
principle are regarded in the choice of means. To the great 
credit, however, of the Whig party, it must be said, that, though 
often set aside and even disowned by their clients, they have 
rarely suffered their high duty, as advocates, to be relaxed or 
interrupted by such momentary suspensions of confidence, hi 
this respect, the cause of Ireland has more than once been a trial 
of their constancy. Even Lord North was able, by his reluctan"- 
concessions, to supersede them for a time in the favor of my too 
believing countrymen, — whose despair of finding justice at any 
hands has often led them thus to cany their confidence to market, 
and to place it in the hands of the first plausible bidder. The 
many vicissitudes of popularity which their own illustrious Whig, 
Grattan, had to encounter, would have wearied out the ardor of 
any less magnanimous champion. But high minds are as little 
affected by such unworthy returns for services, as the sun is by 
those fogs which the earth throws up between herself and his 
light. 

With respect to the Dissenters, they had deserted Mr. Fox in 
his great struggle with the Crown in 1784, and laid their inter- 
est and hopes at the feet of the new idol of the day. Notwith- 
standing this, we find him, in the year 1787, warmly maintaining, 
and in opposition to his rival, the cause of the very persons who 
had contrbuted to make that rival triumphant, — and showing 
just so much remembrance of their late defection as served to 
r^^nder this sacrifice of personal to public feelmgs more signal. 



110 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

" He was determined," he said, " to let them know that, though 
they could upon some occasions lose sight of their principles of 
liberty, he would not upon any occasion lose sight of his prin- 
ciples of toleration." In the present session, too, notwithstand- 
ing that the great organ of the Dissenters, Dr. Price, had lately 
in a sermon, published with a view to the Test, made a pointed 
attack on the morals of Mr. Fox and his friends, this generous 
advocate of religious liberty not the less promptly acceded to 
the request of the body, that he would himself bring the motion 
for their relief before the House. 

On the 12th of June the Parliament was dissolved, — and Mr. 
Sheridan again succeeded in being elected for Stafford. The fol- 
lowing letters, however, addressed to him by Mrs. Sheridan dur- 
ing the election, will prove that they were not without some 
apprehensions of a different result. The letters are still more 
interesting, as showing how warmly alive to each other's feelings 
the hearts of both husband wife could remain, after the long lapse 
of near twenty years, and after trials more fatal to love than even 
time itself 

'' This letter will find you, my dear Dick, I hope, encircled with honors 
at Stafford. I take it for granted you entered it triumphantly on Sunday, 
— but I am very impatient to hear the particulars, and of the utter discom- 
fiture of S — and his followers. I received your note fi'om Birmingham this 
morning, and am happy to find that you and my dear cub were well, so far 
on your journey. You could not be happier than I should be in the pro- 
posed alteration for Tom, but we will talk more of this vrhon we meet. I 
.;cnt you Cartwright yesterday, and to-day I pack you off Perry with the 
soldiers. I was obliged to give them four guineas for their expenses. I 
send you, likewise, by Perry, the note from Mrs. Crewe, to enable you to speak 
of your qualification if you should be called upon. So I think I have exe- 
cuted all your commissions, Sir ; and if you want any of these doubtful 
votes which I mentioned to you, you will have time enough to send for 
them, for I would not let them go till I hear they can be of any use. 

'' And, now for my journal, Sir, which I suppose you expect. Saturday, 
I was at home all day busy for you, — kept Mrs. Reid to dinner,— went to 
the Opera,— afterwards to Mrs. St. John's, where I lost my money sadly, 
Sir, — eat strawberries and cream for supper, — sat between Lord Salisbury 
and Mr. Meynell, (hope you approve of that, Sir,) — overheard Lord Sails- 



RIGHT HON. KICHAKD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN". Ill 

bury advise Miss Boyle by no means to subscribe to Taylor's Opera, as 
O'Reilly's would certainly have the patent, — confess I did not come home 
till past two. Sunday, called on Lady Julia, — father and Mr. Reid to din- 
ner, — in the evening at Lady Hampden's, — lost my money again, Sir, and 
came home by one o'clock. 'Tis now near one o'clock, — my father is estab- 
lished in my boudoir, and, when I have finished this, I am going with him 
to hear Abbe Vogler play on the Stafford organ. I have promised to dine 
with Mrs. Crewe, who is to have a female party only, — no oljjection to that, 
I suppose. Sir? Whatever the party do, I shall do of course, — I suppose 
it will end in Mrs. Hobart's. Mr. James told me on Saturday, and I find it 
is the report of the day, that Bond Hopkins has gone to Stafford. I am 
sorry to tell you there is an opposition at York, — Mr. Montague opposes 
Sir William Milner. Mr. Beckford has given up at Dover, and Lord * * is 
so provoked at it, that he has given up too, though they say they were both 
sure. St. Ives is gone for want of a candidate. Mr. Barham is beat at 
Stockbridge. Charles Lenox has offered for Surry, and they say Lord 
Egremont might drive him to the deuce, if he would set any body up 
against him. You know, I suppose, Mr. Crewe has likewise an opponent. 
I am sorry to tell you all this bad news, and, to complete it, Mr. Adam is 
sick in bed. and there is nobody to do any good left in town. 

'' I am more than ever convinced we must look to other resources for 
wealth and independence, and consider politics merely as an amusement, 
— and in that light 'tis best to be in Opposition, which I am afraid we are 
likely to be for some years again. 

" I see the rumors of war still continue — Stocks continue to fall — is that 
good or bad for the Ministers? The little boys are come home to me to- 
day. I could not help showing in my answer to Mr. T.'s letter, that I was 
hurt at bis conduct, — so I have got another flummery letter, and the boys, 
who (as he is pretty sure) will be the best peace-makers. God bless you, 
my dear Dick. I am very well, I assure you ; pray don't neglect to write 
to your ever affectionate 

" E. S." 

** My Dearest Dick, Wednesday/, 

" I am full of anxiety and fright about you, — I cannot but think your let- 
ters are very alarming. Deuce take the Corporation ! is it impossible to 
make them resign their pretensions, and make peace with the Burgesses ? 
I have sent Thomas after Mr. Cocker. I suppose you have sent for the 
out-votes ; but, if they are not good, what a terrible expense will that be ! 
— however, they are ready. I saw Mr. Cocker yesterday, — he collected 
them together last night, and gave them a treat, — so they are in high good 
humor. I inclose you a letter which B. left here last night, — I could not 
resist opening it. Every thing seems going wrong, I think. I thought he 



112 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

was not to do anything in your absence. — It strikes me the bad business he 
mentions was entirely owing to his own stupidity, and want of a little pa- 
tience, — is it of much consequence ? I don't hear that the report is true of 
Basilico's arrival ; — a messenger came to the Spanish embassy, which gave 
rise to this tale, I believe. 

" If you were not so worried, I should scold you for the conclusion of 
your letter of to-day. Might not I as well accuse you of coldness, for not 
filing your letter with professions, at a time when your head must be full 
of business ? I think of nothing all day long, but how to do good, some 
how or other, for you. I have given you a regular Journal of my time, 
and all to please you, — so don't, dear Dick, lay so much stress on words. I 
should use them oftener, perhaps, but I feel as if it would look like deceit. 
You know me well enough, to be sure that I can never do v/hat I'm bid. 
Sir, — but, pray, donH think I meant to send you a cold letter, for indeed 
nothing was ever farther from my heart. 

'' You will see Mr. Home Tooke's advertisement to-day in the papers ; 
— what do you think of that to complete the thing ? Bishop Dixon has just 
called from the hustings : — he says the late Recorder, Adair, proposed 
Charles with a good speech, and great applause, — Captain Berkeley, Lord 
Hood, with a bad speech, not much applauded ; and then Home Tooke 
came forward, and, in the most impudent speech that ever was heard, pro- 
posed himself, — abused both the candidates, and said he should have been 
ashamed to have sat and heard such ill-deserved praises given him. But 
he told the crowd that, since so many of these fine virtues and qualifica- 
tions had never yet done them the least good, they might as well now 
choose a candidate without them. He said, however, that if they were 
sincere in their professions of standing alone, he was sure of coming in, 
for they must all give him their second votes. There was an amazing deal 
of laughing and noise in the course of his speech. Charles Fox attempted 
to answer him, and so did Lord Hood, — but they would hear neither, and 
they are now polling away. 

'• Do, my dearest love, if you have possibly time, write me a few more 
particulars, for your letters are very unsatisfactory, and I am full of anx- 
iety. Make Richardson write,— what has he better to do ? God bless thee, 
my dear, dear Dick, — would it were over and all well ! I am afraid, at any 

rate, it will be ruinous work. 

" Ever your true and affectionate 

'' E. S. 

" Near five. I am just come ft'om the hustings ; — the state of the poll 

when I left it was, Fox, 260 ; Hood, 75 ; Home Tooke, 17 ! But he still 

persists in his determination of polling a man an hour for the whole time 

I saw Mr. Wilkes go up to vote for Tooke and Hood, amidst the hisses and 

groans of a multitude." 



liiaHT HON.. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. IIS 

" Friday, 

" My poor Dick, how you are worried ! This is the day, — you will easily 
guess how anxious I shall be ; but you seem pretty sanguine yourself, 
which is my only comfort, for Richardson's letter is rather croaking. You 
have never said a word of little Monkton : — has he any chance, or none ? 
I ask questions without considering that, before you receive this, every 
thing will be decided — I hope triumphantly for you. What a sad set of 
venal rascals your favorites the Blacks must be, to turn so suddenly from 
their professions and promises ! I am half sorry you have any thing more 
to do with them, and more than ever regret you did not stand for West- 
minster with Charles, instead of Lord John ; — in that case you would have 
come in now, and we should not have been persecuted by this Home Tooke. 
However, it is the dullest contested election that ever was seen — no can- 
vassing, no houses open, no cockades. But T heard that a report prevails 
now, that Home Tooke polling so few the two or three first days is an art- 
ful trick to put the others off their guard, and that he means to pour in his 
votes on the last days, when it will be too late for them to repair their 
neglect. But I don't think it possible, either, for such a fellow to beat 
Charles in Westminster. 

" I have just had a note from Reid — he is at Canterbury : — the state of 
the poll there, Thursday night, was as follows : — Gipps, 220 ; Lord * *, 
211 ; Sir T. Honeywood, 216 ; Mr. Warton, 163. We have got two mem- 
bers for Wendover, and two at Ailsbury. Mr. Barham is beat at Stock- 
bridge. Mr. Tierney says he shall be beat, owing to Bate Dudley's man- 
oeuvres, and the Dissenters having all forsaken him, — a set of ungrateful 
wretches. E. Fawkener has just sent me a state of the poll at Northamp- 
ton, as it stood yesterday, when they adjourned to dinner : — Lord Comp- 
ton, 160 ; Bouverie, 98 ; Colonel Manners, 72. They are in hopes Mr. 
Manners will give up, this is all my news. Sir. 

" We had a very pleasant musical party last night at Lord Erskine^s, 
where I supped. I am asked to dine to-day with Lady Palmerston, at 
Sheen ; but I can't go, unless Mrs. Crewe will carry me, as the coach is gone 
to have its new lining. I have sent to ask her, for 'tis a fine day, and I 
should like it very well. God thee bless, my dear Dick. 

'^ Yours ever, true and affectionate, 

"E.S. 

*^ Duke of Portland has just left me : — he is full of anxiety about you : — 
this is the second time he has called to inquire." 

Having secured his own election", Mr. Sheridan now hastened 
to lend his aid, where such a lively reinforcement was much want- 
ed, on the hustings at Westminster. The contest here was pro- 



114 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF TELll 

tracted to the 2d of July ; and it required no little exercise both 
of wit and temper to encounter the cool personalities of Tooke, 
who had not forgotten the severe remarks of Sheridan upon his 
pamphlet the preceding year, and w^ho, in addition to his strong 
powers of sarcasm, had all those advantages w^hich, in such a con- 
test, contempt for the courtesies and compromises of party war- 
fare gives. Among other sallies of his splenetic humor it is re- 
lated, that Mr. Fox having, upon one occasion, retired from the 
hustings, and left to Sheridan the task of addressing the multi- 
tude, Tooke remarked, that such was always the practice of quack- 
doctors, who, w^henever they quit the stage themselves, make it 
a rule to leave their merry-andrews behind.* 

The French Revolution still continued, by its comet-like course, 
to dazzle, alarm, and disturb all Europe. Mr. Burke had pub- 
lished his celebrated " Reflections" in the month of November, 
1790 ; and never did any work, with the exception, perhaps, of 
the Eikon Basilike, produce such a rapid, deep, and general sen- 
sation. The Eikon was the book of a King, and this might, in 
another sense, be called the Book of Kings. Not only in Eng- 
land, but throughout all Europe, — in every part of w^hich mon- 
archy was now trembling for its existence, — this lofty appeal to 
loyalty was heard and welcomed. Its effect upon the already 
tottering Whig party was like that of " the Voice," in the ruins 
of Rome, " disparting towers." The whole fabric of the old Rock- 
ingham confederacy shook to its base. Even some, who after- 
wards recovered their equilibrium, at first yielded to the eloquence 
of this extraordinary book, — which, like the £era of chivalry, 
whose loss it deplores, mixes a grandeur with error, and throws 
a charm round political superstition, that w^ill long render its pages 
a sort of region of Royal romance, to which fancy will have re- 
course for illusions that have lost their last hold on reason. 

The undisguised freedom with which Mr. Fox and Mr. Sheri- 
dan expressed every where their opinions of this work and its 

* Tooke, it is said, upon coming one Monday morning to the hustings, was thus ad- 
dressed by a partisan of his opponent, not of a very reputal)le character : — "Well, Mr. 
Tooke, you will have all the blackguiirtls with you to-day."—" I am delighted to hear it, 
Sir," (S"'iLl TooAe, bowing,) " and from such good authority." 



manT hon. richaud brinsley sheridan. 115 

principles had, of course, no small influence on the temper of the 
author, and, while it confirmed him in his hatred and jealousy of 
the one, prepared him for the breach which he meditated with the 
other. This breach was now, indeed, daily expected, as a natu- 
ral sequel to the rupture with Mr. Sheridan in the last session ; 
but, by various accidents and interpositions, the crisis was delayed 
till the 6th of May, when the recommitment of the Quebec Bill, 
— a question upon which both orators had already taken occasion 
to unfold their views of the French Revolution, — furnished Burke 
with an opportunity, of which he impetuously took advantage, to 
sever the tie between himself and Mr. Fox forever. 

This scene, so singular m a public assembly, where the natu- 
ral affections are but seldom called out, and where, though bursts 
of temper like that of Burke are common, such tears as those shed 
by Mr. Fox are rare phenomena, — has been so often described 
in various publications, that it would be superfluous to enter into 
the details of it here. The following are the solemn and stern 
words in which sentence of death was pronounced upon a friend- 
ship, that had now lasted for more than the fourth part of a cen- 
tury. " It certainly," said Mr. Burke, " was indiscretion at any 
period, but especially at his time of life, to provoke enemies, or 
to give his friends occasion to desert him ; yet, if his firm and 
steady adherence to the British Constitution placed him in such 
a dilemma, he would risk all, and, as public duty and public pru- 
dence taught him, with his last words exclaim, ' Fly from the 
French Constitution.' " [Mr. Fox here whispered, that " there 
was no loss of friendship."] Mr. Burke said, " Yes, there was a 
loss of friendship ; — he knew the price of his conduct ; — he had 
done his duty at the price of his friend ; their friendship was at 
an end." 

In rising to reply to the speech of Burke, Mr. Fox was so af- 
fected as to be for some moments unable to speak : — he wept, it 
is said, even to sobbing ; and persons who were in the gallery at 
tne time declare, that, while he spoke, there was hardly a dry eye 
around them. 

Had it been possible for two natures so incapable of disguise 



116 MEMOIRS OP l^HE LIFE OF TfiE 

— the one from simplicity and frankness, the other from ungov- 
ernable temper, — to have continued in relations of amity, not- 
withstanding their disagreement upon a question which was at 
that moment setting the world in arms, both themselves and the 
country would have been the better for such a compromise be- 
tween them. Their long habits of mutual deference would have 
mingled with and moderated the discussion of their present dif- 
ferences ; — the tendency to one common centre to w^hich their 
minds had been accustomed, would have prevented them from 
flying so very widely asunder ; and both might have been thus 
saved from those extremes of principle, which Mr. Burke always, 
and Mr. Fox sometimes, had recourse to in defending their re- 
spective opinions, and which, by lighting, as it were, the torch at 
both ends, but hastened a conflagration in which Liberty herself 
might have been the sufferer. But it was evident that such a 
compromise would have been wholly impossible. Even granting 
that Mr. Burke did not welcome the schism as a relief, neither 
the temper of the men nor the spirit of the times, which con- 
verted opinions at once into passions, would have admitted of 
such a peaceable counterbalance of principles, nor suffered them 
long to slumber in that hollow truce, which Tacitus has described, 
— " manente in speciem amicitiay Mr. Sheridan saw this from 
the first ; and, in hazarding that vehement speech, by which he 
provoked the rupture between himself and Burke, neither his 
judgment nor his temper were so much off their guard as they 
who blamed that speech seemed inclined to infer. But, perceiv- 
ing that a separation was in the end inevitable, he thought it safer, 
perjiaps, as well as manlier, to encounter the extremity at once, 
than by any temporizing delay, or too complaisant suppression of 
opinion, to involve both himself and Mr. Fox in the suspicion of 
either sharing or countenancing that spirit of defection, which, he 
saw, was fast spreading among the rest of their associates. 

It is indeed said, and with every appearance of truth, that Mr. 
Sheridan had felt offended by the censures which some of his po 
litical friends had pronounced upon the indiscretion (as it was 
called) of his speech in the last year, and that, having, in con- 



RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 117 

sequence, withdrawn from them the aid of his powerful talents 
during a great part of the present session, he but returned to his 
post under the express condition, that he should be allowed to 
take the earliest opportunity of repeating, fully and explicitly, 
the same avowal of his sentiments. 

The following letter from Dr. Parr to Mrs. Sheridan, written 
immediately after the scene between Burke and Sheridan in the 
preceding year, is curious : — 

" Dear Madam, 

" I am most fixedly and most indignantly on the side of Mr. Sheridan 
and Mr. Fox against Mr. Burke. It is not merely French politics that pro- 
duced this dispute ; — they might have been settled privately. No, no, — 
there is jealousy lurking underneath ; — jealousy of Mr. Sheridan's elo- 
quence ;— jealousy of his popularity ; — jealousy of his influence with Mr. 
Fox ; — ^jealousy, perhaps, of his connection with the Prince. 

" Mr. Sheridan was, I think, not too warm ; or, at least, I should have 
myself been warmer. Why, Burke accused Mr. Fox and Mr. Sheridan of 
acts leading to rebellion, — and he made Mr. Fox a dupe, and Mr. Sheridan 
a traitor ! I think thisj — and I am sure, yes, positively sure, that nothing 
else will allay the ferment of men's minds. Mr. Sheridan ought, publicly 
in Parliament, to demand proof, or a retractation, of this horrible charge. 
Pitt's words never did the party half the hurt ; — and, just on the eve of an 
election, it is worse. As to private bickerings, or private concessions and 
reconciliations, they are all nothing. In public all must be again taken 
up ; for, if drowned, the Public will say, and Pitt will insinuate, that the 
charge is well founded, and that they dare not provoke an inquiry. 

" I know Burke is not addicted to giving up, — and so much the worse 
for him and his party. As to Mr. Fox's yielding, well had it been for all, 
all, all the party, if Mr. Fox had, now and then, stood out against Mr. 
Burke. The ferment and alarm are universal, and something must be 
done ; for it is a conflagration in w^hich they must perish, unless it be 
stopped. All the papers are with Burke, — even the Foxite papers, which 
I have seen. I know his violence, and temper, and obstinacy of opinion, 
and — but I will not speak out, for, though I think him the greatest man 
upon the earth, yet, in politics I think him, — what he has been found, to 
the sorrow of those who act with him. He is uncorrupt, T know ; but his 
passions are quite headstrong ;* and age, and disappointment, and the sight 
of other men rising into fame and consequence, sour him Pray tell me 

* It was well said, (I believe, by Mr. Fox,) that it was lucky both for Burke and Wind- 
ham that they took the Koyal side on the subject of the French Revolution, as they would 
have got hanged on the other. 



118 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

when they are reconciled, — though, as I said, it is nothing to the purpose 
without a public explanation. 

^' I am, dear Madam, 

" Yours truly, 

" S. Parr." 

Another letter, communicated to me as having been written 
about this period to Sheridan by a Gentleman, then abroad, who 
was well acquainted with the whole party, contains allusions to 
the breach, which make its introduction here not irrelevant : — 

" I wish very much to have some account of the state of things with you 
that I can rely on. I wish to Know how all my old companions and fellow- 
laborers do ; if the club yet exists ; if you. and Richardson, and Lord John, 
and Ellis, and Lawrence, and Fitzpatrick, &c., meet, and joke, and write, 
as of old. "What is become of Becket's, and the supper-parties, — the nodes 
ccenceque i Poor Burgoyne ! I am sure you all mourned him as I did. par- 
ticularly Richardson : — pray remember me affectionately to Richardson. It 
is a shame for you all, and I will say ungrateful in many of you, to have so 
totally forgotten me, and to leave me in ignorance of every thing public 
and private in which I am interested. The only creature who writes to 
me is the Duke of Portland ; but in the great and weighty occupations that 
engross his mind, you can easily conceive that the little details of our So- 
ciety cannot enter into His Grace's correspondence. I have indeed carried 
on a pretty regular correspondence with young Burke. But that is now 
at an end. He is so wrapt up in the importance of his present pursuits, that 
it is too great an honor for me to continue to correspond with him. His 
father I ever must venerate and ever love ; yet I never could admire, even 
in him, what his son has inherited from him, a tenacity of opinion and a 
violence of principle, that makes him lose his friendships in his politics, and 
quarrel with every one who differs from him. Bitterly have I lamented 
that greatest of these quarrels, and, indeed, the only important one : nor 
can I conceive it to have been less afflicting to my private feelings than 
fatal to the party. The worst of it to me was, that I was obliged to con- 
demn the man I loved, and that all the warmth of my affection, and the 
zeal of my partiality, could not suggest a single excuse to vindicate him 
either to the world or to myself, from the crime (for such it was) of giving 
such a triumph to the common enemy. He failed, too, in what i most loved 
him for, — his heart. There it was that Mr. Fox principally rose above him ; 
nor, amiable as he ever has been, did he ever appear half so amiable as 
on that trying occasion.'^ 

The topic upon which Sheridan most distinguished himself 
during this Session was the meditated interference of England in 



RIGHT EON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 119 

the war between Russia and the Porte, — one of the few measures 
of Mr. Pitt on which the sense of the nation was opposed to him. 
So unpopular, indeed, was the Armament, proposed to be raised 
for this object, and so rapidly did the majority of the Minister 
diminish during the discussion of it, that there appeared for some 
time a probability that the Whig party would be called into 
power, — an event which, happening at this critical juncture, 
might, by altering the policy of England, have changed the des- 
tinies of all Europe. 

The circumstance to which at present this Russian question 
owes its chief hold upon English memories is the charge, arising 
out of it, brought against Mr. Fox of having sent Mr. Adair as 
his representative to Petersburgh, for the purpose of frustrating 
the objects for which the King's ministers were then actually ne- 
gotiating. This accusation, though more than once obliquely 
intimated during the discussions upon the Russian Armament in 
1791, first met the public eye, in any tangible form, among those 
celebrated Articles of Impeachment against Mr. Fox, which were 
drawn up by Burke's practised hand* in 1793, and found their 
way surreptitiously into print in 1797. The angry and vindictive 
tone of this paper was but little calculated to inspire confidence 
in its statements, and the charge again died away, unsupported 
and unrefuted, till the appearance of the Memoirs of Mr. Pitt by 
the Bishop of Winchester ; when, upon the authority of docu- 
ments said to be found among the papers of Mr. Pitt, but not 
produced, the accusation was revived, — the Right Reverend 
biographer calling in aid of his own view of the transaction the 
charitable opinion of the Turks, who, he complacently assures 
us, " expressed great surprise that Mr. Fox had not lost his head 
for such conduct." Notwithstanding, however, this Concordat 
between the Right Reverend Prelate and the Turks, something 
more is still wanting to give validity to so serious an accusation. 
Until the production of the alleged proofs (which Mr. Adair has 

* This was the third time that his talent for impeachin2: was exercised, as he acknowl- 
edged having drawn up, during the administration of Lord North, seven distinct Articles 
of Impeachment against that nobleman, which, however, the advice of Lord Rocking 
pam induced him to relinquish. 



120 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

confidently demanded) shall have put the public in possession of 
more recondite materials for judging, they must regard as satis- 
factory and conclusive the refutation of the whole charge, both 
as regards himself and his illustrious friend, which Mr. Adair has 
laid before the world ; and for the truth of which not only his own 
high character, but the character of the ministries of both par- 
Lies, w^ho have since employed him in missions of the first trust 
and importance, seem to offer the strongest and most convincing 
pledges. 

The Empress of Russia, in testimony of her admiration of the 
eloquence of Mr. Fox on this occasion, sent an order to England, 
through her ambassador, for a bust of that statesman, which it 
was her intention, she said, to place between those of Demos- 
thenes and Qcero. The following is a literal copy of Her Impe- 
rial Majesty's note on the subject :* — 

" Ecrives au Cte. Worenzof cu'il me fasse avoir en marbre blanc le Buste 
resemblant de Charle Fox. Je veut le mettre sur ma Colonade entre eux 
de Demosthene et Ciceron. 

'^ II a deUvre par son eloquence sa Patrie et la Russie d'une guerre a la 
quelle il n'y avoit ni justice ni raisons.'' 

Another subject that engaged much of the attention of Mr. 
Sheridan this year was his own motion relative to the constitu- 
tion of the Royal Scotch Boroughs. He had been, singularly 
enough, selected, in the year 1787, by the Burgesses of Scotland, 
in preference to so many others possessing more personal know- 
ledge of that country, to present to the House the Petition of the 
Convention of Delegates, for a Reform of the internal govern- 
ment of the Royal Boroughs. How fully satisfied they were 
vvith his exertions in their cause may be judged by the following 
extract from the Minutes of Convention, dated 11th August, 
1791 :— 

'•'■ Mr. Mills of Perth, after a suitable introductory speech, moved a vote 
of thanks to Mr. Sheridan, in the following words : — 

* Found among Mr. Sheridan's papers, with these words, in his OM^n hand-writing", 
anrr^xed : — "N. B. Fox would have lost it, if I had not made him look for it, and taken 
a copy," 



RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 121 

"The Delegates of the Burgesses of Scotland, associated for the pur- 
pose of Reform, taking into their most serious consideration the important 
services rendered to their cause by the manly and prudent exertions of 
Richard Brinsley Sheridan, Esq., the genuine and fixed attachment to it 
which the whole tenor of his conduct has evinced, and the admirable moder- 
ation he has all along displayed, 

" Resolved unanimously. That the most sincere thanks of this meeting 
be given to the said Richard Brinsley Sheridan, Esq., for his steady, honor- 
able, and judicious conduct in bringing the question relative to the violated 
rights of the Scottish Boroughs to its present important and favorable cri- 
sis ; and the Burgesses with firm confidence hope that, from his attachment 
to the cause, which he has shown to be deeply rooted in principle, he will 
persevere to exert his distinguished abilities, till the objects of it are ob- 
tained, with that inflexible firmness, and constitutional moderation, which 
have appeared so conspicuous and exemplary throughout the whole of his 
conduct, as to be highly deserving of the imitation of all good citizens. 

" John Ewen, Secretary." 

From a private letter written this year by one of the Scottish 
Delegates to a friend of Mr. Sheridan, (a copy of which letter I 
have found among the papers of the latter,) it appears that the 
disturbing effects of Mr. Burke's book had already shown them- 
selves so strongly among the Whig party as to fill the writer 
with apprehensions of their defection, even on the safe and mode- 
rate question of Scotch Reform. He mentions one distinguished 
member of the party, who afterwards stood conspicuously in the 
very van of the Opposition, but who at that moment, if the au- 
thority of the letter may be depended upon, was, like others, 
under the spell of the great Alarmist, and yielding rapidly to the 
influence of that anti-revolutionary terror, which, like the Panic 
dignified by the ancients with the name of one of their Gods, will 
be long associated in the memories of Englishmen w^ith the 
mighty name and genius of Burke. A consultation was, how- 
ever, held among this portion of the party, with respect to the 
prudence of lending their assistance to the measure of Scotch 
Reform ; and Sir James Mackintosh, as I have heard him say, 
was in company with Sheridan, when Dr. Lawrence came direct 
from the meeting, to inform him that they had agreed to support 
his motion. 

VOL, II. 6 



122 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

The state of the Scotch Representation is one of those cases 
where a dread of the ulterior objects of Reform induces many 
persons to oppose its first steps, however beneficial and reason- 
able they may deem them, rather than risk a further application 
of the principle, or open a breach by which a bolder spirit of in- 
novation may enter. As it is, there is no such thing as popular 
election in Scotland. We cannot, indeed, more clearly form to 
ourselves a notion of the manner in which so important a portion 
of the British empire is represented, than by supposing the Lords 
of the Manor throughout England to be invested with the power 
of electing her representatives, — the manorial rights, too, being, 
in a much greater number of instances than at present, held in- 
dependently of the land from which they derive their claim, and 
thus the natural connection between property and the right 'of 
election being, in most cases, wholly separated. Such would be, 
as nearly as possible, a parallel to the system of representation 
now existing in Scotland ; — a system, which it is the understood 
duty of all present and future Lord Advocates to defend, and 
which neither th-e lively assaults of a Sheridan nor the sounder 
reasoning and industry of an Abercrombie have yet been able to 
shake. 

The following extract from another of the many letters of Dr. 
Parr to Sheridan shows still further the feeling entertained 
towards Burke, even by some of those who most violently dif- 
fered with him : — 

^' During the recess of Parliament I hope you will read the mighty work 
of my friend and your friend, and Mr. Fox's friend, Mackintosh : there is 
some obscurity and there are many Scotticisms in it ; yet I do pronounce it 
the work of a most masculine and comprehensive mind. The arrangement 
is far more methodical than Mr. Burke's, the sentiments are more patriotic, 
the reasoning is more profound, and even the imagery in some places is 
scarcely less splendid. I think Mackintosh a better philosopher, and a bet- 
ter citizen, and I know him to be a far better scholar and a far better man 
than Payne ; in whose book there are great irradiations of genius, but none 
of the glowing and generous warmth which virtue inspires ; that warmth 
which is often kindled in the bosom of Mackintosh, and which pervades 
almost every page of Mr. Burke's book— *hough I confess, and with sorrow 



RIGH;T HON. KICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 123 

I confess, that the holy flame was quite extinguished in his odious alterca- 
tion with you and Mr. Fox." 

A letter from the Prince of Wales to Sheridan this year fur- 
nishes a new proof of the confidence reposed in him by His 
Royal Highness. A question of much delicacy and importance 
having arisen between that Illustrious Personage and the Duke 
of York, of a nature, as it appears, too urgent to wait for a refe- 
rence to Mr. Fox, Sheridan had alone the honor of advising His 
Royal Highness in the correspondence that took place between 
him and his Royal Brother on that occasion. Though the letter 
affords no immediate clue to the subject of these communications, 
there is little doubt that they referred to a very important and 
embarrassing question, which is known to have been put by the 
Duke of York to the Heir- Apparent, previously to his own mar- 
riage this year ; — a question which involved considerations con- 
nected with the Succession to the Crown, and which the Prince, 
with the recollection of what occurred on the same subject in 
1787, could only get rid of by an evasive answer. 



CHAPTER V. 

DEATH OF MES. SHERIDAN. 

In the year 1792, after a long illness, which terminated in 
consumption, Mrs. Sheridan died at Bristol, in the thirty-eighth 
year of her age. 

There has seldom, perhaps, existed a finer combination of all 
those qualities that attract both eye and heart, than this accom- 
plished and lovely person exhibited. To judge by what we hear, 
it was impossible to see her without admiration, or know her 
without love ; and a late Bi-^hop used to say that she " seemed 
to hira the connecting link between woman and angel."* The 
devotedness of affection, too, with which she was regarded, not 
only by her own father and sisters, but by all her husband's 
family, showed that her fascination was of that best kind which, 
like charity, " begins at home ;" and that while her beauty and 
music enchanted the world, she had charms more intrinsic and 
lasting for those who came nearer to her. We have already seen 
with what pliant sympathy she followed her husband through his 
various pursuits, — identifying herself with the politician as warm- 
ly and readily as with the author, and keeping Love still attendant 
on Genius through all his transformations. As the wife of the 
dramatist and manager, we find her calculating the receipts of 
the house, assisting in the adaptation of her husband's opera, and 
reading over the plays sent in by dramatic candidates. As the 
wife of the senator and orator we see her, with no less zeal, 

* Jackson of Exeler, too, giving a description of her, in some Memoirs of his own Life 
that were never published, said that to see her, as she stood singing beside him at the 
piaijo-forte, was " like looking into the face of an angel," 



BIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 125 

making extracts from state-papers, and copying out ponderous 
pamphlets, — entering with all her heart and soul into the details 
of elections, and even endeavoring to fathom the mysteries of the 
Funds. The affectionate and sensible care with which she watched 
over, not only her own children, but those w^hich her beloved sis- 
ter, Mrs. Tickell, confided to her, in dying, gives the finish to this 
picture of domestic usefulness. When it is recollected, too, that 
the person thus homelily employed was gifted with every charm 
that could adorn and delight society, it would be difficult, per- 
haps, to find any where a more perfect example of that happy 
mixture of utility and ornament, in which all that is prized by 
the husband and the lover combines, and which renders woman 
what the Sacred Fire was to the Parsees, — not only an object of 
adoration on their altars, but a source of warmth and comfort to 
their hearths. 

To say that, with all this, she was not happy, nor escaped the 
censure of the world, is but to assign to her that share of shadow, 
without which nothing bright ever existed on this earth. United 
not only by marriage, but by love, to a man who was the object 
of universal admiration, and whose vanity and passions too often 
led him to yield to the temptations by which he was surrounded, 
it was but natural that, in the consciousness of her own power to 
charm, she should be now and then piqued into an appearance of 
retaliation, and seem to listen w^ith complaisance to some of those 
numerous worshippers, who crowd around such beautiful and un- 
guarded shrines. Not that she was at any time unwatched by- 
Sheridan, — on the contrary, he followed her with a lover's eyes 
throughout ; and it was believed of both, by those who knew 
them best, that, even when they seemed most attracted by other 
objects, they w^ould willingly, had they consulted the real wishes 
of their hearts, have given up every one in the world for each 
other. So wantonly do those, who have happiness in their grasp, 
trifle with that rare and delicate treasure, till, like the careless 
hand playing with the rose, 

" In swinging it rudely, too rudely, alas, / 

They snap it — it falls to the ground,'' 



126 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

They had, immediately after their marriage, as we have seen, 
passed some time in a little cottage at Eastburnham, and it was a 
period, of course, long remembered by them both for its happi- 
ness. I have been told by a friend of Sheridan, that he once 
overheard him exclaiming to himself, after looking for some 
moments at his wife, with a pang, no doubt, of melancholy self- 
reproach, — " Could anything bring back those first feelings ?" 
then adding with a sigh, " Yes, perhaps, the cottage at East- 
burnham might." In this as well as in some other traits of the 
same kind, there is assuredly any thing but that common-place 
indifference, which too oflen clouds over the evening of married 
life. Oil the contrary, it seems rather the struggle of affection 
with its own remorse ; and, like the humorist who mourned over 
the extinction of his intellect so eloquently as to prove that it 
was still in full vigor, shows love to be still warmly alive in the 
very act of lamenting its death. 

I have already presented the reader with some letters of Mrs. 
Sheridan, in w^hich the feminine character of her mind very in- 
terestingly displays itself Their chief charm is unaffectedness, 
and the total absence of that literary style, which in the present 
day infects even the most familiar correspondence. I shall here 
give a few more of her letters, written at different periods to the 
elder sister of Sheridan, — it being one of her many merits to 
have kept alive between her husband and his family, though so 
far separated, a constant and cordial intercourse, which, unluckily, 
after her death, from his ow^n indolence and the new connections 
into which he entered, was suffered to die away, almost entirely. 
The first letter, from its allusion to the Westminster Scrutiny, 
must have been written in the year 1784, Mr. Fox having gained 
his great victory over Sir Cecil Wray on the 17th of May, and 
the Scrutiny having been granted on the same day. 

" My dear Lisst, London, June 6. 

" I am happy to find by your last that our apprehensions on Charles's 
account were useless. The many reports that were circulated here of his 
accident gave us a good deal of uneasiness ; but it is no longer wonderful 



RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 127 

that he should be buried here, when Mr. Jackman has so barbarously mur- 
dered him with you. I fancy he would risk another broken head, rather 
than give up his title to it as an officer of the Crown. We go on here 
wrangling as usual, but I am afraid all to no purpose. Those who are in 
possession of power are determined to use it without the least pretence to 
justice or consistency. They have ordered a Scrutiny for Westminster, in 
defiance of all law or precedent, and without any other hope or expectation 
but that of harassing and tormenting Mr. Fox and his friends, and obliging 
them to waste their time and money, which perhaps they think might other- 
wise be employed to a better purpose in another cause. We have nothing 
for it but patience and perseverance, which I hope will at last be crowned 
with success, though I fear it will be a much longer trial than we at first 

expected. I hear from every body that your are vastly disliked— but 

are you not all kept in awe by such beauty ? I know she flattered herseli 
to subdue all your Volunteers by the fire of her eyes only : — how astonish- 
ed she must be to find that they have not yet laid down their arms ! There is 
nothing would tempt me to trust my sweet person upon the water sooner 
than the thoughts of seeing you ; but I fear my friendship will hardly ever 
be put to so hard a trial. Though Sheridan is not in office, I think he is 
more engaged by politics than ever. 

^' I suppose we shall not leave town till September. We have promised 
to pay many visits, but I fear we shall be obliged to give up many of our 
schemes, for I take it for granted Parliament will meet again as soon as 
possible. We are to go to Chatsworth, and to another friend of mine in 
that neighborhood, so that I doubt our being able to pay our annual visit 
to Crewe Hall. Mrs. Crewe has been very ill all this winter with your old 
complaint, the rheumatism — she is gone to Brightelmstone to wash it away 
in the sea. Do you ever see Mrs. Greville ? I am glad to hear my two 
nephews are both in so thriving a way. Are you still a nurse ? I should 
like to take a peep at your bantlings. AVhich is the handsomest ? have 
you candor enough to think any thing equal to your own boy ? if you have, 
you have more merit than I can claim. Pray remember me kindly to Bess, 
Mr. L., &c., and don't forget to kiss the little squaller for me when you have 
nothing better to do. God bless you. 

" Ever yours." 

" The inclosed came to Dick in one of Charles's franks ; he said he should 
write to you himself with it, but I think it safest not to trust him." 

In another letter, written in the same year, there are some 
touches both of sisterly and of conjugal feeling, which seem to 
bespeak a heart happy in all its affections. 



128 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

^^ My Dear Lisst, Putney, August 16. 

*^ You will no doubt be surprised to find me still dating from this placb 
but various reasons have detained me here from day to day, to the great 
dissatisfaction of my dear Mary, who has been expecting me hourly for the 
last fortnight. I propose going to Hampton-Court to night, if Dick returns 
in any decent time from town. 

'•' I got your letter and a half the day before yesterday, and shall be very 
well pleased to have such blunders occur more frequently. You mistake, 
if you suppose I am a friend to your tarrers and featherers : — it is such 
wretches that always ruin a good cause. There is no reason on earth why 
you should not have a new Parliament as well as us : — it might not, per- 
haps, be quite as convenient to our immaculate Minister, but I sincerely hope 
he will not find your Volunteers so accommodating as the present India 
troops in our House of Commons. What ! does the Secretary at \yar con- 
descend to reside in any house but his own ? — 'Tls very odd he should turn 
himself out of doors in his situation. I never could perceive any economy 
in dragging furniture from one place to another ; but, of course, he has 
more experience in these matters than I have. 

" Mr. Forbes dined here the other day, and I had a great deal of conver- 
sation with him on various subjects relating to you all. He says, Charles's 
manner of talking of his wife, &c. is so ridiculous, that, whenever 1^ comes 

into company, they always cry out, — ' Now S n, we allow you half an 

hour to talk of the beauties of Mrs. S. — half an hour to your child, and an- 
other half hour to your farm, — and then we expect you will behave like a 
reasonable person.' 

" So Mrs. is not happy : poor thing, I dare say, if the truth were 

known, he teazes her to death. Your very good husbands generally contrive 
to make you sensible of their merit somehow or other. 

" From a letter Mr. Canning has just got from Dublin, I find you have 
been breaking the heads of some of our English heroes. I have no doubt 
in the world that they deserved it ; and if half a score more that I know 
had shared the same fate, it might, perhaps, become less the fashion among 
our young men to be such contemptible coxcombs as they certainly are. 

•• My sister desired me to say all sorts of affectionate things to you, in 
return for your kind remembrance of her in your last. I assure you, you 
lost a great deal by not seeing her in her maternal character : — it is the 
prettiest sight in the world to see her with her children : — they are both 
charming creatures, but my little namesake is my delight : — 'tis impossible 
to say how foolishly fond of her I am. Poor Mary ! she is in a way to have 
more ;— and what will become of them all is sometimes a consideration that 
gives me many a painful hour. But they are happy, with their little por- 
tion of the goods of this world : — then, what ar^j riches good for ? For my 



I^IGHT HON. EICHAED BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 129 

part, as you know, poor Dick and I have always been struggling against 
the stream, and shall probably continue to do so to the end of our lives, — 
yet we would not change sentiments or sensations with .... for all his 
estate. By the bye, I was told t'other day he was going to receive eight 
thousand pounds as a compromise for his uncle's estate, which has been so 
long in litigation : — is it true ? — I dare say it is, though, or he would not 
be so discontented as you say he is. God bless you. — Give my love to Bess, 
and return a kiss to my nephew for me. Remember me to Mr. L. and be- 
lieve me 

" Truly yours." 

The following letter appears to have been written in 1785, 
some months after the death of her sister, Miss Maria Linley. 
Her playful allusions to the fame of her own beauty might have 
been answered m the lano;uao^e of Paris to Helen : — 

'^ Minor est tua gloria vera 
Famaque de forma pene maligna est.^^ 

*' Thy beauty far outruns even rumor's tongue, 
And envious fame leaves half thy charms unsung. '^ 

*'My Dear Lissy, Lelapre Abbey, Dec. 21. 

" Notwithstanding your incredulity, I assure you I wrote to you from 
Hampton-Court, very soon after Bess came to England. My letter was a 
dismal one ; for my mind was at that time entirely occupied by the affect- 
ing circumstance of my poor sister's death. Perhaps you lost nothing by 
not receiving my letter, for it was not much calculated to amuse you. 

*• I am still a recluse, you see, but I am preparing to laujich for the win- 
ter in a few days. Dick was detained in town by a bad fever : — you may 
suppose I was kept in ignorance of his situation, or I should not have re- 
mained so quietly here. He came last week, and the fatigue of the journey 
very nearly occasioned a relapse : — but by the help of a jewel of a doctor 
that lives in this neighborhood we are both quite stoat and well again, 
(for /took it into my head to fall sick again, too, without rhyme or rea- 
son.) 

'' We purpose going to town to-morrow or next day. Our own house 
has been painting and papering, and the weather has been so unfavorable 
to the business, that it is probable it will not be fit for us to go into this 
month ; we have, therefore, accepted a most pressing invitation of General 
Burgoyne to take up our abode with him, till our house is ready ; so your 
uext must be directed to Bruton-Street, under cover to Dick, unless Charles 
will frank it again. I don't believe what you say of Charles's not being 

VOL. n. 6^ 



130 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

glad to have seen me in Dublin. You are very flattering in the reasons 
you give, but I rather think his vanity would have been more gratified by 
showing every body how much prettier and younger his wife was than the 
Mrs. Sheridan in whose favor they have been prejudiced by your good-na- 
tured partiality. If I could have persuaded myself to trust the treacher- 
ous ocean, the pleasure of seeing you and your nursery would have com- 
pensated for all the fame I should have lost by a comparison. But my 
guardian sylph, vainer of my beauty, perhaps, than myself, would not suf- 
fer me to destroy the flattering illusion you have so often displayed to your 
Irish friends. No, — I shall stay till I am past all pretensions, and then you 
may excuse your want of taste by saying, ' Oh, if you had seen her when 
she was young !' 

'' I am very glad that Bess is satisfied with my attention to her. The 
unpleasant situation I was in prevented my seeing her as often as I could 
wish. For her sake I assure you I shall be glad to have Dick and your fa- 
ther on good terms, without entering into any arguments on the subject ; 
but I fear, where one of the parties, at least, has a tincture of what they 
call in Latin damnatus obstinatus 7nulio, the attempt will be difficult, and 
the success uncertain. God bless you, and believe me 

" Mrs. Lefanu, Great Cuff-Street, Dublin. " Truly yours." 

The next letter I shall give refers to the illness with which old 
Mr. Sheridan was attacked in the beginning of the year 1788, and 
of w^hich he died in the month of August following. It is unne- 
cessary to direct the reader's attention to the passages in which 
she speaks of her lost sister, Mrs. Tickell, and her children: — 
they have too much of the heart's best feelings in them to be 
passed over slightly. 

'' My Dear Lissy, London, April 5. 

'' Your last letter I hope was written when you were low spirited, and 
consequently inclined to forebode misfortune. I would not show it to She- 
ridan :— he has lately been much harassed by business, and I could not bear 
to give him the pain I know your letter would have occasioned. Partial 
as your father has always been to Charles, I am confident he never has, 
nor ever will feel half the duty and affections that Dick has always exprest. 
I know how deeply he will be afflicted, if you confirm the melancholy ac- 
connt of his declining health ;— but I trust your next will remove my ap- 
prehensions, and make it unnecessary for me to wound his affectionate 
heart by the intelligence. I flatter myself likewise, that you have been 
without reason alarmed about poor Bess. Her life, to be sure, must be 



RIGHI^ IIOK. RlCfiARt) BRINSLEY SHERIDAN, 131 

dreadful : — but I should hope the good nature and kindness of her disposi- 
tion will support her, and enable her to continue the painful duty so ne- 
cessary, probably, to the comfort of your poor father. If Charles has not 
or does not do every thing in his power to contribute to the happiness of 
the few years which nature can allow him, he will have more to answer to 
his*conscien€e than I trust any of those dear to me will have. Mrs. Crewe 
told us, the other day, she had heard from Mrs. Greville, that every thing 
was settled much to your father's satisfaction. I will hope, therefore, as I 
have said before, you were in a gloomy fit when you wrote, and in the 
mean time I will congratulate you on the recovery of your own health and 
that of your children. 

^' I have been confined now near two months : — I caught cold almost im- 
mediately on coming to town, which brought on all those dreadful com- 
plaints with which I was afflicted at Crewe-Hall. By constant attention 
and strict regimen I am once m.ore got about again ; but I never go out 
of my house after the sun is down, and on those terms only can I enjoy 
tolerable health. I never knew Dick better. My dear boy is now with me 
for his holydays, and a charming creature he is, I assure you, in every re- 
spect. My sweet little charge, too, promises to reward me for all my care 
and anxiety. The little ones come to me every day, though they do not 
at present live with me. We think of taking a house in the country this 
summer as necessary for my health and convenient to S., who must be 
often in town. I shall then have all the children with me, as they now 
constitute a very great part of my happiness. The scenes of sorrow and 
sickness I have lately gone through have depressed my spirits, and made 
me incapable of finding pleasure in the amusements which used to occupy 
me perhaps too much. My greatest delight is in the reflection that I am 
acting according to the wishes of my ever dear and lamented sister, and 
that by fulfilling the sacred trust bequeathed me in her last moments, I 
insure my own felicity in the grateful affection of the sweet creatures, — 
whom, though I love for their own sakes, I idolize when I consider them as 
the dearest part of her who was the first and nearest friend of my heart ! 
God bless you, my dear Liss : — this is a subject that always carries me 
away. I will therefore bid you adieu, — only entreating you as soon as you 
can to send me a more comfortable letter. My kind love to Bess, and Mr. L. 

*' Yours, ever affectionately." 



I shall give but one more letter ; which is perhaps only inter- 
esting as showing how little her heart went along with the gaye- 
ties into which her husband's connection with the world of fashion 
and politics led her. 



132 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

" My Dear Lissy, May 23. 

" I have only time at present to write a few lines at the request of Mrs. 
Crewe, who is made very unhappy by an account of Mrs. Greville's illness^ 
as she thinks it possible Mrs. G. has not confessed the whole of her situa- 
tion. She earnestly wishes you would find out from Dr. Quin what the 
nature of her complaint is, with every other particular you can gather on 
the subject, and give me a line as soon as possible. 

^' I am very glad to find your father is better. As there has been a re- 
cess lately from the Trial, I thought it best to acquaint Sheridan with hia 
illness. I hope now, however, there is but little reason to be alarmed 
about him. Mr. Tickell has just received an account from Holland, that 
poor Mrs. Berkeley, (whom you know best as Betty Tickell,) was at the 
point of death in a consumption. 

" I hope in a very short time now to get into the country. The Duke 
of Norfolk has lent us a house within twenty miles of London ; and I am 
impatient to be once more out of this noisy, dissipated town, where I do 
nothing that I really like, and am forced to appear pleased with every thing 
odious to me. God bless you. I write in the hurry of dressing for a great 
ball given by the Duke of York to-night, which I had determined not to go 
to till late last night, when I was persuaded that it would be very im- 
proper to refuse a Royal invitation, if I was not absolutely confined by ill- 
ness. Adieu. Believe me truly yours. 

^^ You must pay for this letter, for Dick has got your last with the direc- 
tion ; and any thing in his hands is irrecoverable /'' 

The health of Mrs. Sheridan, as we see by some of her letters, 
had been for some time delicate ; but it appears that her last, 
fatal illness originated in a cold, which she had caught in the 
summer of the preceding year. Though she continued from that 
time to grow gradually worse, her friends were flattered with the 
hope that as soon as her confinement should take place, she would 
be relieved from all that appeared most dangerous in her com- 
plaint. That event, however, produced but a temporary inter- 
mission of the malady, which returned after a few days with such 
increased violence, that it became necessary for her, as a last 
hope, to try the waters of Bristol. 

Tlie following affectionate letter of Tickell must have oeen 
written at this period : — 

'' My Deah Sheridan, 
** I was but too well prepared for th<e melancholy intelligence contained 



RIGHT HON. EICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 133 

in your last letter, in answer to which, as Richardson will give you this, I 
leave it to his kindness to do me justice in every sincere and affectionate 
expression of my grief for your situation, and my entire readiness to obey 
and further your wishes by every possible exertion. 

'' It you have any possible opportunity, let me entreat you to remember 
me to the dearest, tenderest friend and sister of my heart. Sustain yourself, 
my dear Sheridan, 

" And believe me yours, 

'^ Most affectionately and faithfully, 

'' R. TiCKELL.'' 

The circumstances of her death cannot better be told than in 
the language of a lady whose name it would be an honor to 
mention, who, giving up all other cares and duties, accompanied 
her dying friend to Bristol," and devoted herself, with a tender- 
ness rarely equalled even am.ong women, to the soothing and 
lightening of her last painful moments. From the letters written 
by this lady at the time, some extracts have lately been given 
by Miss Lefanu* in her interesting Memoirs of her grandmother, 
Mrs. Frances Sheridan. But their whole contents are so impor- 
tant to the characters of the persons concerned, and so delicately 
draw aside the veil from a scene of which sorrow and affection 
were the only witnesses, that I feel myself justified not only in 
repeating what has already been quoted, but in adding a few 
more valuable particulars, which, by the kindness of the writer 
and her correspondent, I am enabled to give from the same au- 
thentic source. The letters are addressed to Mrs. H. Lefanu, the 
second sister of Mr. Sheridan. 



'^Bristol, June I, 1792. 
•* I am happy to have it in my power to give you any information on a 

* The talents of this young lady are another proof of the sort of gavel-kind of genius 
allotted to the whole race of Sheridan. I find her very earliest poetical work:, "TheSyl- 
phid Queen," thus spoken of in a letter from the second ilrs. Sheridan to her mother, Mrs. 
Lefanu : — "I should have acknowledged your very welcome present immedialeiy, had 
not Mr. Sheridan, on my telling him what it was, run off with it, and I have been in vain 
endeavoring to get it from him ever since. What little I did read of it, I admired partic- 
ularly ; but it will be much more gratityir.t to you and your daughter to hear that hi 
read it with ths gpreatest attentioiij and ih» ght it showed a great dval ot iraaginatioo." 



134 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

subject so interesting to you, and to all that have the happiness of knowing 
dear Mrs. Sheridan ; though I am sorry to add, it cannot be such as will 
relieve your anxiety, or abate your fears. The truth is, our poor friend is 
in a most precarious state of health, and quite given over by the faculty. 
Her physician here, who is esteemed very skilful in consumptive cases, as- 
sured me from the first that it was a lost case ; but as your brother seemed 
unwilling to know the truth, he was not so explicit with him, and only re- 
presented her as being in a very critical situation. Poor man ! he cannot 
bear to think her in danger himself, or that any one else should ; though he 
is as attentive and watchful as if he expected every moment to be her last. 
It is impossible for any man to behave with greater tenderness, or to feel 

more on such an occasion, than he does. 

********* 

^' At times the dear creature suffers a great deal from weakness, and 
want of rest. She is very patient under her sufferings, and perfectly re- 
signed. She is well aware of her danger, and talks of dying with the great- 
est composure. I am sure it will give you and Mr. Lefanu pleasure to 
know that her mind is well prepared for any change that may happen, and 
that she derives every comfort from religion that a sincere Christian can 
look for." 

On the 28th of the same month Mrs. Sheridan died ; and a 
letter from this lady, dated July 19th, thus touehingly describes 
her last moments. As a companion-picture to the close of She- 
ridan's own life, it completes a lesson of the transitorinessof this 
world, which might sadden the hearts of the beautiful and gifted, 
even in their most brilliant and triumphant hours. Far happier, 
however, in her death than he was, she had not only his afiec- 
tionate voice to soothe her to the last, but she had one devoted 
friend, out of the many whom she had charmed and fascinated, to 
watch consolingly over her last struggle, and satisfy her as to the 
fate of the beloved objects which she left behind. 

"/wZ?/ 19, 1792. 
" Our dear departed friend kept her bed only two days, and seemed to 
Buffer less during that interval than for some time before. She was per- 
fectly in her senses to the last moment, and talked with the greatest com- 
posure of her approaching dissolution ; assuring us all that she had the 
most perfect confidence in the mercies of an all-powerful and merciful Be- 
ing, from whom alone she could have derived the inward comfort and sup- 
port she felt at that awful moment ! She said, she had no fear of death, 



RIGHT HON. HICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 185 

and that all her concern arose from the thoughts of leaving so many dear 
and tender ties, and of what they would suffer from her loss. Her own 
family were at Bath, and had spent one day with her, when she was toler- 
ably well. Your poor brother now thought it proper to send for them, and 
to flatter them no longer. They immediately came ; — it was the morning 
before she died. They were introduced one at a time at her bed-side, and 
were prepared as much as possible for this sad scene. The w^omen bore it 
very well, but all our feelings were awakened for her poor father. The in- 
terview between him and the dear angel was afflicting and heart-breaking 
to the greatest degree imaginable. I was afraid she would have sunk un- 
der the cruel agitation : — she said it was indeed too much for her. She 
gave some kind injunction to each of them, and- said everything she could 
to comfort them under this severe trial. They then parted, in the hope of 
seeing her again in the evening, but they never saw her more ! Mr. Sheri- 
dan and I sat up all that niojht with her : — indeed he had done so for sev- 
eral nights before, and never left her one moment that could be avoided. 
About four o'clock in the morning we perceived an alarming change, and 
sent for her physician.* She said to him, • If you can relieve me, do it 
quickly ; — if not do not let me struggle, but give me some laudanum.' 
His answer was, ' Then I will give you some laudanum.' She desired to 
see Tom and Betty Tickell before she took it, of whom she took a most af- 
fecting leave ! Your brother behaved most wonderfully, though his heart 

* This physician was Dr. Bam, then a very young man, whose friendship with Slieridan 
began by this mournful duty to his wife, and only ended Mnih the performance of the 
same melancholy office for himself. As the writer of the above letters was not present 
during the interview which she describes between him and Mrs. Sheridan, there are a few 
slight errors in her account of what passed, the particulars of which, as related by Dr. 
Bain himself, are as follows : — On his arrival, iji.e begged of Sheridan and her female 
friend to leave the room, and then, desiring him to lock the door after them, said, " You 
have never deceived me : — tell me truly, shall I live over this night." Dr. Bain imme- 
diately felt her pulse, and finding that she was dying, answered, " I recommend you to 
take some laudanum ;" upon which she replied, " I miderstand you : — then give it me." 

Dr. Bain fully concurs with the writer of these letters in bearing testimony to the ten- 
derness and affection that Sheridan evinced on this occasion : — it was, he says, quite 
" the devotedness of a lover." The following note, addressed to him after the sad event 
was over, does honor alike to the writer and the receiver : — 



" I must request your acceptance of the inclosed for your professional attendance 
For the kind and friendly attentions, which have accompanied your efforts, I must remaiD 
your debtor. The recollection of them will live in my mind with the memory of the dear 
lost object, whose sufferings you soothed, and whose heart was grateful for it. 

*' Believe me, 

"Dear Sir, 

" Very sincerely yours, 
' < Friday night, " R . B. SHERn)^% ' ' 



186 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

was breaking ; and at times his feelings were so violent, that I feared he 
would have been quite ungovernable at the last. Yet he summoned up 
courage to kneel by the bed-side, till he feltthe last pulse of expiring excel- 
lence, and then withdrew. She died at five o'clock in the morning, 28th 
of June. 

" I hope, my dear Mrs. Lefanu, you will excuse my dwelling on this most 
agonizing scene. I have a melancholy pleasure in so doing, and fancy it 
will not be disagreeable to you to hear all the particulars of an event so 
interesting, so afflicting, to all vfho knew the beloved creature ! For my 
part, I never beheld such a scene — never suffered such a conflict — much as 
I have suffered on my own account. While I live, the remembrance of it 
and the dear lost object caa never be effaced from my mind. 

" We remained ten days after the event took place at Bristol ; and on 
the 7th instant Mr. Sheridan and Tom, accompanied by all her family (ex- 
cept Mrs. Linley), Mr. and Mrs. Leigh, Betty Tickell and myself, attended 
the dear remains* to Wells, where we saw her laid beside her beloved sis- 
ter in the Cathedral. The choir attended ; and there was such a concourse 
of people of all sorts assembled on the occasion that we could hardly move 
along. Mr. Leigh read the service in a most affecting manner. Indeed, 
the whole scene, as you may easily imagine, was awful and affecting to a 
very great degree. Though the crowd certainly interrupted the solemnity 
very much, and, perhaps, happily for us abated somewhat of our feelings, 
which, had we been less observed, would not have been so easily kept 
down. 

'' The day after the sad scene was closed we separated, your brother 
choosing to be left by himself with Tom for a day or two. He afterwards 
joined us at Bath, where we spent a few days with our friends, the Leighs. 
Last Saturday we took leave of them, and on Sunday we arrived at Isle- 
worth, where with much regret, I left your brother to his own melancholy 
reflections, with no other companions but his two children, in whom he 
seems at present entirely wrapped up. He suffered a great deal in return- 
ing the same road, and was most dreadfully agitated on his arrival at Isle- 
worth. His grief is deep and sincere, and I am sure will be lasting. He 
is in very good spirits, and at times is even cheerful, but the moment he is 
left alone he feels all the anguish of sorrow and regret. The dear little 
girl is the greatest comfort to him : — he cannot bear to be a moment with- 
out her. She thrives amazingly, and is indeed a charming little creature. 

* The following striking reflection, which I have found upon a scrap of paper, in Sheri- 
dan's handwriting-, wrs suggested, no doubt, by his feelings on tiiig occasion : — 

" The loss of the breath from a beloved object, long suffering in pain and certainly to 
die. is not so great a privation as the last loss of her beautiful reuiains, if they remain 
so- The victory of the Grave is sharper than the Sting of Death." 



HIGHT HON. EICHAED BEINSLEY SHERIDa^^ 137 

Tom behaves with constant and tender attention to his father : — he laments 
Ids dear mother sincerely, and at the time was violently affected ; — but, at 
his age, the impressions of grief are not lasting ; and his mind is naturally 
too lively and cheerful to dwell long on melancholy objects. He is in all 
respects truly amiable, and in many respects so like his dear, charming 
mother, that I am sure he will be ever dear to my heart. I expect to have 
the pleasure of seeing Mr. Sheridan again next week, when I hope to find 
him more composed than when I took leave of him last Sunday.'* 

To the mention which is made, in this affecting letter, of the 
father of Mrs. Sheridan, whose destiny it had been to follow to 
the grave, within a few short years, so many of his accomplished 
children,"^ I must add a few sentences more from another letter 
of the same lady, which, while they increase our interest in this 
amiable and ingenious man, bear testimony to Sheridan's attach- 
ing powers, and prove how aifectionate he must have been to her 
who was gone, to be thus loved by the flither to whom she was 
so dear : — 

'' Poor Mr. Linley has been here among us these two months. He is very 
much broke, but is still a very interesting and agreeable companion. I do 
not know any one more to be pitied than he is. It is evident that the 
recollection of past misfortunes preys on his mind, and he has no comfort 
in the surviving part of his fiimily, they being all scattered abroad. Mr. 
Sheridan seems more his child than any one of his own, and I believe he 
likes being near him and his grandchildren, "f 

* In 1778 his eldest son Thomas was drowned, while amusing himself in a pleasure- 
boat at the seat of the Duke of Ancaster. The pretty lines of Mrs. Sheridan to his violin 
are "well known. A few years after, Samuel, a lieutenant in the navy, was carried off 
by a fever. Miss Maria Linley died in 1785, and Mrs. Tickell in 1787. 

I have erroneously stated, in a former part of this work, that Mr. William Linley is the 
only surviving branch of this family ; — there is another brother, Mr. Ozias Linley, st.jl 
livmg. 

f In the Memoirs of Mrs. Crouch I find the following anecdote : — " Poor Mr. Linley ! 
after the death of one of his sons, when seati-d at the harpsichord in Drury-Lane theatre, 
in order to accompany the vocal parts of an interesting little piece taken frojn Prior's 
Henry and Enima, by Mr. Tickell, and excellently represented by Palmer and Miss Far- 
ren, — when the tutor of Henry, Mr. Aikin, gave an impressive description of a promising 
young man, in speaking of his pupil Henry, the feelings of Mr. Liuley could not be sup- 
pressed. His tears fell fast — nor did he weep alone." 

In the same work Mrs. Crouch is made to say that, after Miss Maria Linley died, it was 
melancholy for her to sing to Mr. Linley, whose tears continually fell on the keys as he ac- 
companied her ; and if, in the course of her profession, she was obliged to practise a 



188 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

Towards the autumn, (as we learn from another letter of this 
lady,) Mr. Sheridan endeavored to form a domestic establish- 
ment for himself at Wanstead. 

" Wanstead, October 22, 1792. 
•' Your brother has taken a house in this village very near me, where he 
means to place his dear little girl to be as much as possible under my pro- 
tection. This was the dying request of my beloved friend ; and the last 
effort of her mind and pen* was mad ? the day before she expired, to draw 
up a solemn promise for both of us to sign, to ensure the strict perform- 
ance of this last awful injunction : so anxious was she to commit this dear 
treasure to my care, well knowing how impossible it would be for a father, 
situated as your brother is, to pay that constant attention to her which a 
daughter so particularly requires. * * * You may be assured I shall 
engage in the task with the greatest delight and alacrity : — would to God 
that I were in the smallest degree qualified lo supply the place of that an- 
gelic, all-accomplished mother, of whose tender care she has been so early 
deprived. All I can do for her I will do ; and if I can succeed so far as to 
give her early and steady principles of religion, and to form her mind to 
virtue, I shall think my time well employed, and shall feel myself happy 

in having fulfilled the first wish of her beloved mother's heart. 

* ************ * 

To return to your brother, he talks of having his house here immediately 

song which ne had been accustomed to hear his lost daughter sing, the similarity 
of their manners and their voices, which he had once remarked with pleasure, then af- 
fected him lo such a degree, that he was frequently forced to quit the instrument and 
walk about the room to recover his composure. 

* There are some touching allusions to these last thoughts of Mrs. Sheridan, in an 
Elegy, written by her brother, Mr. William linley, soon after the news of the sad event 
reached him in India : — 

" Oh most beloved ! my sister and my friend i 

While kindred woes still breathe around thine urn, 
Long with the tear of absence must / blend 
The sigh, that speaks thou never shall return. 

* * * * * * 

" 'Twas Faith, that, bending o'er the bed of death, 

Shot o'er thy pallid cheek a transient ray, 

With softer effort soothed thy laboring breath, 

Gave grace to anguish, beauty lo decay. 

" Thy friends, thy children, claim'd thy latest care , 
Theirs was the last that to thy bosom clun^ ; 
For them to heaven thou sent'st the expiring prayer, 
The las! that falter'd on thy trembling tongue." 



RIGHT HOK. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAK. 189 

furnished and made ready for the reception of his nursery. It is a very 
good sort of common house, with an excellent garden, roomy and fit for the 
purpose, but will admit of no show or expense. I understand he has taken 
a house in Jermyn-street, where he may see conpany, but he does not in- 
tend having any other country-house but this. Meworth he gives up, his 
time being expired there. I believe he has got a private tutor for Tom — 
somebody very much to his mind. At one time he talked of sending him 
abroad with this gentleman, but I know not at present what his determina- 
tions are. He is too fond of Tom's society to let him go from him for any 
time ; but I think it would be more to his advantage if he would consent 
to part with him for two or three years. It is impossible for any man to be 
more devotedly attached to his children than he is, and I hope they will be 
a comfort and a blessing to him, when the world loses its charms. The last 
time I saw him, which was for about five minutes, I thought he looked re- 
markably well, and seemed tolerably cheerful. But I have observed in gen- 
eral that this affliction has made a wonderful alteration in the expression 
of his countenance and in his manners.* The Leighs and my family spent a 
week with him at Isleworth the beginning of August, where we were in- 
deed most affectionately and hospitably entertained. I could hardly believe 
him to be the same man. In fact, we never saw him do the honors of his 
house before ; that, you know, he always left the dear, elegant creature, 
who never failed to please and charm every one who came within the sphere 
of her notice. Nobody could have filled her place so well : — he seemed to 
have pleasure in making much of those whom she loved, and who, he knew, 
sincerely loved her. We all thought he never appeared to such advantage. 
He was attentive to every body and every thing, though grave and thought- 
ful ; and his feelings, poor fellow, often ready to break forth in spite of his 
efforts to suppress them. He spent his evenings mostly by himself He de- 
sired me, when I wrote, to let you know that she had by will made a little 
distribution of what she called * her own property,' and had left you and 
your sister rings of remembrance, and her fausse montre, containing Mr. 
Sheridan's picture to you,t — Mrs. Joseph Lefanu having got hers. She left 
rings also to Mr. and Mrs. Leigh, my sister, daughter, and myself, and posi- 
tively forbids any others being given on any pretence, but these I have 
specified, — evidently precluding all her Jine friends from this last mark of 
her esteem and approbation. She had, poor thing, with some justice, turn- 

* I have heard a Noble friend of Sheridan say that, happening about this time to sleep 
in the room next to him, he could plainly hear him sobbing throughout the greater part 
of the night. 

f This bequest is thus announced by Sheridan himself in a letter to his sister, dated 
June 3, 1794 : — " I mean also to send by Miss Patrick a picture which has long been your 
property, by a bequest from one whose image is not often from my mind, and whose 
memory, I am sure, remains in yours " 



140 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

ed from them all in disgust, and I observed, during her illness, never men- 
tioned any of them with regard or kindness." 

The consolation which Sheridan derived from his little daugh- 
ter was not long spared to him. In a letter, without a date, from 
the same amiable writer, the following account of her death is 
given :— 

" The circumstances attending this melancholy event were particularly 
distressing. A large party of young people were assembled at your broth- 
er's to spend a joyous evening in dancing. We were all in the height of 
our merriment, — he himself remarkably cheerful, and partaking of the 
amusement, when the alarm was given that the dear little angel was dying. 
It is impossible to describe the confusion and horror of the scene : — he was 
quite frantic, and I knew not what to do. Happily there were present 
several kind, good-natured men, who had their recollection, and pointed 
out what should be done. We very soon had every possible assistance, and 
for a short time we had some hope that her precious life would have been 
spared to us — but that was soon at an end ! 

'' The dear babe never throve to my satisfaction : — she was small and 
delicate beyond imagination, and gave very little expectation of long life ; 
but she had visibly declined during the last month. * * * Mr. Sheridan 
made himself very miserable at first, from an apprehension that she had 
been neglected or mismanaged ; but I trust he is perfectly convinced that 
this was not the case. He was severely afflicted at first. The dear babe's 
resemblance to her mother after her death was so much more striking, that 
it was impossible to see her without recalling every circumstance- of that 
afflicting scene, and he was continually in the room indulging the sad re- 
membrance. In this manner he indulged his feelings for four or five days ; 
then, having indispensable business, he was obliged to go to London, from 
whence he returned, on Sunday, apparently in good spirits and as well as 
usual. But^ however he may assume the appearance of ease or cheerful- 
ness, his heart is not of a nature to be quickly reconciled to the loss of any 
thing he loves. He suffers deeply and secretly ; and I dare say he viiil 
long and bitterly lament both mother and child." 

The reader will, I think, feel w^ith me, after reading the fore- 
going letters, as well as those of Mrs. Sheridan, given in the 
course of this work, that the impression w^hich they altogether 
leave on the mind is in the highest degi*ee favorable to the char- 
acters both of husband and vAfe. There is, round the whole* 



RIGHT HON. EtCHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 141 

an atmosphere of kindly, domestic feeling, which seems to answer 
for the soundness of the hearts that breathed in it. The sen- 
sibility, too, displayed by Sheridan at this period, was not that 
sort of passionate return to former feelings, which the prospect 
of losing what it once loved might awaken in even the most 
alienated heart ; — on the contrary, there w^as a depth and mellow- 
ness in his sorrow which could proceed from long habits of affec- 
tion alone. The idea, indeed, of seeking solace for the loss of the 
mother in the endearments of the children w^ould occur only to 
one who had been accustomed to find happiness in his home, and 
who therefore clung for comfort to what remained of the wTCck. 

Such, I have little doubt, were the natural feelings and dis- 
positions of Sheridan ; and if the vanity of talent too often turned 
him aside from their influence, it is but another proof of the dan- 
ger of that " light which leads astray," and may console those who, 
safe under the shadow of mediocrity, are unvisited by such dis 
turbing splendors. 

The followino; letters on this occasion, from his eldest sister 
and her husband, are a further proof of the warm attachment 
which he inspired in those connected with him : — * 

" My dearest Brother, 
" Charles has just informed me that the fatal, the dreaded event has 
taken place. On my knees I implore the Almighty to look down upon 
you in your affliction, to strengthen your noble, your feeling he^^rt to bear 
it. Oh my beloved brother, these are sad, sad trials of fortitude. One 
consolation, at least, in mitigation of your sorrow, I am sure you possess, 
— the consciousness of having done all you could to preserve the dear angel 
you have lost, and to soften the last painful days of her mortal existence. 
Mrs. Canning wrote to me that she was in a resigned and happy frame of 
mind : she is assuredly among the blest ; and I feel and I think she looks 
down with benignity at my feeble efforts to soothe that anguish I parti- 
cipate. Let me then conjure you, my dear brother, to suffer me to en- 
deavor to be of use to you. Could I have done it, I should have been with 
^-ca from the time of your arrival at Bristol. The impossibility of my 
>x^ng has made me miserable, and injured my health, already in a very bad 
state. It would give value to my life, could I be of ihat service I think I 
Mxght be of, if I were near you ; and as I cannot go to you, and as there 
^ every reason for your quitting the scene and objects before you, perhapa 



142 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF TH:fi 

jou may let us have the happiness of having you here, and my dear Tom ; 
I will write to him when my spirits are quieter. I entreat you, my dear 
brother, try what change of place can do for you : your character and ta- 
lents are here held in the highest estimation ; and you have here some 
who love you beyond the afifection any in England can feel for you. 
'' Cuff-Street, Uh July. A, Lefanu.'' 

" My dear good Sir, • Wednesday, Uh July, 1792. 

*^ Permit me to join my entreaties to Lissy's to persuade you to come 
over to us. A journey might be of service to you, and change of objects a 
real relief to your mind. We would try every thing to divert your 
thoughts from too intensely dwelling on certain recollections, which are 
yet too keen and too fresh to be entertained with safety, — at least to occupy 
you too entirely. Having been so long separated from your sister, you can 
hardly have an adequate idea of her love for you. I, who on many occa- 
sions have observed its operation, can truly and solemnly assure you that 
it far exceeds any thing I could ever have supposed to have been felt by 
a sister towards a brother. I am convinced you would experience such 
soothing in her company and conversation as would restore you to your- 
self sooner than any thing that could be imagined. Come, then, my dear 
Sir, and be satisfied you will add greatly to her comfort, and to that of 
your very afl^ctiouate friend, •' J. Lefaioj/' 



EiGHT HON. EiCHARU BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 143 



CHAPTER VI. 



U 



DRURY-LANE THEATRE. — SOCIETY OF '" THE FRIENDS 
OF THE PEOPLE." — MADAME DE GENLIS. — WAR WITH 
FRANCE. — WHIG SECEDERS. — SPEECHES IN PARLIA- 
MENT. — DEATH OF TICKELL. 

The domestic anxieties of Mr. Sheridan, during this year, 
left but little room in his mind for public cares. Accordingly, 
we find that, after the month of April, he absented himself from 
the House of Commons altogether. In addition to his appre- 
hensions for the safety of Mrs. Sheridan, he had been for some 
time harassed by the derangement of his theatrical property, 
which was now fast falling into a state of arrear and involvement, 
from which it never after entirely recovered. 

The Theatre of Drury-Lane having been, in the preceding 
year, reported by the surveyors to be unsafe and incapable of 
repair, it was determined to erect an entirely new house upon 
the same site ; for the accomplishment of which purpose a pro- 
posal was made, by Mr. Sheridan and Mr. Linley, to raise the 
sum of one hundred and fifty thousand pounds, by the means of 
three hundred debentures, of five hundred pounds each. This 
part of the scheme succeeded instantly ; and I have now before 
me a list of the holders of the 300 shares, appended to the 
proposal of 1791, at the head of which the names of the three 
Trustees, on whom the Theatre was afterwards vested in the 
year 1793, stand for the following number of shares : — Albany 
Wallis, 20 ; Hammersley, 50 ; Richard Ford, 20. But, though 
the money was raised without any difficulty, the completion of 
the new building was delayed by various negotiations and ob- 
stacles, while, in the mean time, the company were playing, at an 
enormous expense, first in the Opera-House, and afterwards at 
the Haymarket-Theatre, and l\Ir. Sheridan and Mr. Linley wer^ 
paying interest for the first instalment of the loan. 



144 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THlii 

To these and other causes of the increasmg embarrassments ot 
Sheridan is to be added the extravagance of his own style of 
living, which became much more careless and profuse after death 
had deprived him of her, whose maternal thoughtfulness Alone 
would have been a check upon such improvident waste. We 
are enabled to form some idea of his expensive habits, by find- 
ing, from the letters which have just been quoted, that he was, at 
the same time, maintaining three establishments, — one at Wan- 
stead, where his son resided with his tutor; another at Isleworth, 
which he still held, (as I learn from letters directed to him there,) 
in 1793 ; and the third, his town-house, in Jermyn-Street. Rich 
and ready as were the resources which the Treasury of the theatre 
opened to him, and fertile as v/as his own invention in devising 
new schemes of finance, such mismanaged expenditure would ex- 
haust even his magic wealth, and the lamp must cease to answer 
to the rubbing at last. 

The tutor, whom he was lucky enough to obtain for his son at 
this time, was Mr. William Smythe, a gentleman who has since dis- 
tinguished himself by his classical attainments and graceful talent 
for poetry. Young Sheridan had previously been under the care of 
Dr. Parr, with whom he resided a considerable time at Hatton ; 
and the friendship of this learned man for the father could not 
have been more strongly shown than in the disinterestedness with 
wliich he devoted himself to the education of the son. The fol- 
lowing letter from him to Mr. Sheridan, in the May of this year, 
proves the kind feeling by which he was actuated towards him : — 

" Dear Sir, 
" I hope Tom got home safe, and found you in better spirits. 
He said something about drawing on your banker ; but I do not 
understand the process, and shall not take any step. You will 
consult your own convenience about these things ; for my con- 
nection with you is that of friendship and personal regard. I 
feel and remember slights from those I respect, but acts of kind- 
ness I cannot forget ; and, though my life has been passed far 
more in doing than receiving service.;, yet I know and I value the 



RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLE^ SHERIDAN. 145 

good dispositions of yourself and a few other friends, — men who 
are worthy of that name from me. 

" If you choose Tom to return, he knows and you i^now how 
glad I am always to see him. If not, pray let him do something, 
and I will tell you what he should do. 

" Believe me, dear Sir, 

" Yours sincerely, 

"S. Parr." 

In the spring of this year was established the Society of " The 
Friends of the People," for the express purpose of obtaining a 
Parliamentary Reform. To this Association, which, less for its 
professed object than for the republican tendencies of some of 
its members, was particularly obnoxious to the loyalists of the 
day, Mr. Sheridan, Mr. Grey, and many others of the leading 
persons of the Whig party, belonged. Their Address to the 
People of England, which was put forth in the month of April, 
contained an able and temperate exposition of the grounds upon 
which they sought for Reform ; and the names of Sheridan, 
Mackintosh, Whi thread, &;c., appear on the list of the Committee, 
by which this paper was drawn up. 

It is a proof of the little zeal which Mr. Fox felt at this pe- 
riod on the subject of Reform, that he withheld the sanction of 
his name from a Society, to which so many of his most intimate 
political friends belonged. Some notice was, indeed, taken in the 
House of this symptom of backwardness in the cause; and 
Sheridan, in replying to the insinuation, said that " they wanted 
not the signature of his Right Honorable friend to assure them 
of his concurrence. They had his bond in the steadiness of his 
political principles and the integrity of his heart." Mr. Fox 
himself, however, gave a more definite explanation of the cir- 
cumstance. " He might be asked," he said, " why his name was 
not on the list of the Society for Reform ? His reason was, that 
though he saw great and enormous grievances, he did not see the 
remedy." It is to be doubted, indeed, whether Mr. Fox ever fully 
admitted the principle upon which the demand for a Reform was 

VOL. II. '^ 



1-46 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THfi 

founded. When he afterwards espoused the question so warmly, 
it seeras to have been merely as one of those weapons caught up 
in the heat of a warfare, in which Liberty itself appeared to him 
too imminently endangered to admit of the consideration of any 
abstract principle, except that summary one of the right of resist 
ance to power abused. From what has been already said, too, 
of the language held by Sheridan on this subject, it may be con- 
cluded that, though far more ready than his friend to inscribe 
Reform upon the banner of the party, he had even still less 
made up his mind as to the practicability or expediency of the 
measure. Looking upon it as a question, the agitation of which 
was useful to Liberty, and at the same time counting upon the 
improbability of its obj3cts being ever accomplished, he adopted 
at once, as we have seen, the most speculative of all the plans 
that had been proposed, and flattered himself that he thus secured 
tne benefit of the general prmciple, without risking the incon- 
venience of any of the piar/ical details. 

The following extract of a letter from Sheridan to one of his 
female correspondents^ at this time, will show that he did not 
quite approve the policy of Mr. Fox in holding aloof from the 
Reformers : — 

" I am down here with Mrs. Canning and her family, while all 
my friends and party are meeting in town, where I have excused 
myself- to lay their wise heads together in this crisis. Again I 
say there is nothing but what is unpleasant before my mind. I 
wish to occupy and fill my thoughts with public matters, and to 
do justice to the times, they afford materials enough ; but nothing 
is in prospect to make activity pleasant, or to point one's efforts 
against one common enemy, making all that engage in the attack 
cordial, social, and united. On the contrary, every day produces 
some new schism and absurdity. Windham has signed a non- 
sensical association with Lord Mulgrave ; and when I left town 
yesterday, I was informed that the Divan^ as the meeting at 
Debrett's is called, were furious at an authentic advertisement 
from the Duke of Portland against Charles Fox's speech in the 



RIGHT HON. RICHAKD BRIXSLEY SHERIDAK. 147 

Whig Qub, which no one before believed to be genuine, but 
which they now say Dr. Lawrence brought from. Burlington- 
House. If this is so, depend on it there will be a direct breach 
in what has been called the Whig Party. Charles Fox must 
come to the Reformers openly and avowedly ; and in a month 
four-fifths of the Whig Club will do the same." 

The motion for the Abolition of the Slave-trade, brought for- 
ward this year by Mr. Wilberforce, (on w^hose brows it may be 
said, with much more truth than of the Roman General, " Annexuit 
Africa lauros^^^) was signalized by one of the most splendid orations 
that the lofty eloquence of Mr. Pitt ever poured forth.* I men- 
tion the Debate, however, for the mere purpose of remarking, 
as a singularity, that, often as this great question was discussed 
in Parliament, and ample as was the scope which it afforded for 
the grander appeals of oratory, Mr. Sheridan was upon no occa- 
sion tempted to utter even a syllable on the subject, — except once 
for a few minutes, in the year 1787, upon some point relating to 
the attendance of a witness. The two or three sentences, how- 
ever, which he did speak on that occasion were sufficient to prove, 
(what, as he was not a West>India proprietor, no one can doubt,) 
that the sentiments entertained by him on this interesting topic 
were, to the full extent, those which actuated not only his own 
party, but every real lover of justice and humanity throughout 
the world. To use a quotation which he himself applied to ano- 
ther branch of the question in 1807 : — 

** I would not have a slave to till my ground, 
To fan me when I sleep, and tremble when 
' I wake, for all that human sinews, bought 
And sold, have ever earned." 



* It was at the conclusion of ihis speech that, in contemplating the period when Africa 
would, he hoped, participate in those blessings of civilization and knowledge which 
were now enjoyed by more fortunate regions, he applied the happy quotation, rendered 
still more striking, it is said, by the circumstance of the rising sun just then shining in 
through the windows of the House : — 

*' Nos primus equis Oriens afflavit cmheliSf 

lUic sera rulens o.ccendit lhm,ina Fes-jper." 



i48 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

The National Convention having lately, in the first paroxysm 
of their republican vanity, conferred the honor of Citizenship 
upon several distinguished Englishmen, and, among others, up- 
on Mr. Wilberforce and Sir James Mackintosh, it was intended, 
as appears by the following letter from Mr. Stone, (a gentleman 
subsequently brought into notice by the trial of his brother for 
High Treason,) to invest Mr. Fox and Mr. Sheridan with the 
same distinction, had not the prudent interference of Mr. 
Stone saved them from this very questionable honor. 

The following is the letter which this gentleman addressed to 
Sheridan on the occasion. 

^^Faris^ Nov, 18, Tear- 1, of the French EepuUic. 
"Dear Sir, 
" I have taken a liberty with your name, of which I ought to 
give you notice, and offer some apology. The Convention hav- 
ing lately enlarged their connections in Europe, are ambitious 
of adding to the number of their friends by bestowing some mark 
of distinction on those who have stood forth in support of their 
cause, when its fate hung doubtful. The French conceive that 
they owe this obligation very eminently to you and Mr. Fox; 
and, to show their gratitude, the Committee appointed to make 
the Keport has determined to offer you to and Mr. Fox the honor 
of Citizenship. Had this honor never been conferred before, 
had it been conferred only on worthy members of society, or 
were you and Mr. Fox only to be named at this moment, I 
should not have interfered. But as they have given the title to 
obscure and vulgar men and scoundrels, of which they are now 
very much ashamed themselves, I have presumed to suppose 
that you would think yourself much more honored in the 
breach than the observance, and have therefore caused your 
nomination to be suspended. But I was influenced in this also 
by other considerations, of which one v/as, that, though the 
Committee would be more careful in their selection than the last 
had been, yet it was probable you would not like to share the 
honors with such as would be chosen. But another more im- 



RIGHT HOIT. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 149 

portant one that weighed with me was, that this new character 
would not be a small embarrassment in the route which you have 
to take the next Session of Parliament, when the affairs of 
France must necessarily be often the subject of discussion. 'No 
one will suspect Mr. Wilberforce of being seduced, and no one 
has thought that he did any thing to render him liable to seduc- 
tion ; as his superstition and devotedness to Mr. Pitt have kept 
him perfectly a Vdbri from all temptations to err on the side of 
liberty, civil or religious. But to you and Mr. Pox the reproach 
will constantly be made, and the blockheads and knaves in the 
House will always have the means of influencing the opinions of 
those without, by opposing with success your English character 
to your Prench one ; and that which is only a mark of gratitude 
for past services will be construed by malignity into a bribe of 
some sort for services yet to be rendered. You may be certain 
that, in offering the reasons for my conduct, I blush that I think 
it necessary to stoop to such prejudices. Of this, however, you 
will be the best judge, and I should esteem it a favor if you 
would inform me whether I have done right, or whether I shall 
suffer your names to stand as they did before my interference. 
There will be sumcient time for me to receive your answer, as I 
have prevailed on the Eeporter, M. Brissot, to delay a few days. 
I have given him my reasons for wishing the suspension, to which 
he has assented. Mr. O'Brien also prompted me to this deed, 
and, if I have done wrong, he must take half the punishment. 
My address is ''Rose, Huissier," under cover of the President 
of the National Convention. 

''I have the honor to be 

"Your most obedient 

"And most humble servant, 

"J. H. Stone." 

It was in the month of October of this year^hat the romantic 
adventure of Madame de Genlis, (in the contrivance of which 
the practical humor of Sheridan may, I think, be detected,) oc- 
curred on the road between London and Dartf ord. This dis- 



150 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

tinguished lady liad, at the close of the year 1791, with a view 
of escapuig the turbulent scenes then passing in France, come 
over with her illustrious pupil, Mademoiselle d'Orieans, and her 
adopted daughter, Pamela,* to England, where she received boch 
from Mr. Fox and Mr. Sheridan, all that attention to which her 
high character for talent, as well as the embarrassing nature of 
her situation at that moment, claimed for her. 

The following letter from her to Mr. Fox I find inclosed in 
one from the latter to Mr. Sheridan : — 

•' Sir, 
" You have, by your infinite kindness, given me the right to 
show you the utmost confidence. The situation I am in makes 
me desire to have with me, during two days, a person perfectly 
well instructed in the Laws, and very sure and honest. I desire 
such a person that I could ofifer to him all the money he would 
have for this trouble. But there is not a moment to be lost on 
the occasion. If you could send me directly this person, you 
would render me the most important service. To calm the most 
cruel agitation of a sensible and grateful soul shall be your re- 
ward. — Oh could I see you but a minute ! — I am uneasy, sick, 
unhappy ; surrounded by the most dreadful snares of the fraud 
and wickedness ; I am intrusted with the most interesting and 
sacred charge ! — All these are my claims to hope your advices, 
protection and assistance. My friends are absent in that mo- 
ment ; there is only two names in which I could place my confi- 



* Married at Tournay in the month of December, 1792, to Lord Edward Fitzgerald 
Lord Edward was the only one, among the numerous suitors of Mrs. Sheridan, to whom 
she is supposed to have listened with any thing like a return of feeling ; and that there 
sho'^ld be mutual admiration between two such noble specimens of human nature, it is 
easy, without injury to either of them, to believe. 

Some months before her death, when Sheridan had been describing to her and Lord 
Edward a beautiful French girl whom he had lately seen, and added that she put him 
strongly in mind of what his own wife had been in the first bloom of her youth and 
beauty, Mrs. Sheridan turned to Lord Edward, and said with a melancholy smile, "I 
should like you, when T am dead, to marry that girl." This was Pamela, whom Sheridan 
had just seen durmg his visit of a few hours to Madame de Genlis, at Bury, in Suffolk, aud 
whom Lord Edward married in about a vear after. 



RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 151 

dence and my hopes. Pardon this bad language. As Hypolite 
I may say, 

" ^Songez queje vous farle une langue itranghrey 

but the feelings it expresses cannot be strangers to your heart. 

" Sans avoir I'avantage d'etre connue de Monsieur Fox, je 
prens la liberte de le supplier de comuniquer cette lettre a Mr. 
Sheridan, et si ce dernier n'est pas a Londres, j'ose esperer de 
Monsieur Fox la meme bonte que j'attendois de Mr. Sheridan 
dans I'embarras ou je me trouve. Je m'adresse aux deux per- 
sonnes de I'Angleterre que j'admire le plus, et je serois double- 
ment heureuse d'etre tiree de cette perplexite et de leur en avoir 
Tobligation. Je serai pent etre a Londres incessament. Je de- 
sirerois vivement les y trouver ; mais en attendant je souhaite 
avec ardeur avoir ici le plus promptement possible I'homme de 
loi, ou seulement en etat de donner de bons conseils que je de- 
mand e. Je renouvelle toutes mes excuses de tant d'importu- 
nites." 

It was on her departure for France in the present year that 
the celebrated adventure to which I have alluded, occurred ; and 
as it is not often that the post-boys between London and Dart- 
ford are promoted into agents of mystery or romance, I shall 
give the entire narrative of the event in the lady's own words, — 
premising, (what Mr. Sheridan, no doubt discovered,) that her 
imagination had been for some ^ime on the watch for such inci- 
dents, as she mentions, in another place, her terrors at the idea 
of " crossing the desert plains of Newmarket without an es- 
cort." 

" We left London," says Madame de Genlis, " on our return to France 
the 20th of October, 1792, and a circumstance occurred to us so extraor- 
dinary, that I ought not, I feel, to pass it over in silence. I shall merely, 
however, relate the fact, without any attempt to explain it. or without add- 
ing to my recital any of those reflections which the impartial reader will 
easily supply. We set out at ten oxlock in the morning in two carriages, 
one ?vith six horses, and the other, in which were our maids, with four. I 



152 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

had, two months before, sent off four of my servants to Paris, so that we 
had with us only one French servant, and a footman, whom we had hired 
to attend us as far as Dover. When we were about a quarter of a league 
from London, the French servant, who had never made the journey from 
Dover to London but once before, thought he perceived that we were not 
in the right road, and on his making the remark to me, I perceived it also. 
The postillions, on being questioned, said th^t they had only wished to 
avoid a small hill, and that they would soon return into the high road 
again. After an interval of three quarters of an hour, seeing that we still 
continued our way through a country that was entirely new to me, I again 
interrogated both the footman and the postillions, and they repeated their 
assiu'ance that we should soon regain the usual road. 

'^ Notwithstanding this, however, we still pursued our course with ex- 
treme rapidity, in the same unknown route ; and as I had remarked that 
the post-boys and footman always answered me in a strange sort of laconic 
manner, and appeared as if they were afraid to stop, my companions and 
I began to look at each other with a mixture of surprise and uneasiness. 
We renewed our inquiries, and at last they answered that it was indeed 
true they had lost their way, but that they had wished to conceal it from 
us till they had found the cross-road to Dartford (our first stage,) and that 
now, having been for an hour and a half in that road, we had but two miles 
to go before we should reach Dartford. It appeared to us very strange 
that people should lose their way between London and Dover, but the as- 
surance that we were only half a league from Dartford dispelled the sort of 
vague fear that had for a moment agitated us. At last, after nearly an hour 
had elapsed, seeing that we stiil were not arrived at the end of the stage, 
our uneasiness increased to a degree Vv^hich amounted even to terror. It 
was with maich difficulty that I made the post-boys stop opposite a small 
village which lay to our left ; in spite of my shouts they still went on, till at 
last the French servant, (for the other did not interfere,) compelled them 
to stop. I then sent to the village to ask how far we were from Dartford, 
and my surprise may be guessed when I received for answer that we were 
now 22 miles, (more than seven leagues,) distant from that place. Conceal- 
ing my suspicions, I took a guide in the village, and declared that it was 
my wish to return to London, as I found I was now at a less distance fronc 
that city than from Dartford. The post-boys made much resistance to my 
desire, and even behaved with an extreme degree of insolence, but our 
French servant, backed by the guide, compelled them to obey. 

^' As we returned at a very slow pace, owing to the sulkiness of the post- 
boys and the fatigue of the horses, we did not reach London before night- 
fall, when I immediately drove to Mr. Sheridan^s house. He was extremely 
surprised to see me returned, and on my relating to him our adventure, 
agreed with us that it could not have been the result of mere chance. He 



RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDiiS.. 153 

then sent for a Justice of the Peace to examine the post-boys, who were 
detained till his arrival under the pretence of calculating their account ; 
but in the meantime, the hired footman disappeared and never returned. 
The post-boys being examined by the Justice according to the legal form, 
and in the presence of witnesses, gave their answers in a very confused way, 
but confessed that an unknown gentleman had come in the morning to 
their masters, and carrying them from thence to a public-house, had. by giv- 
ing them something to drink, persuaded them to take the road by which we 
had gone. The examination was continued for a long time, but no further 
confession could be drawn from them. Mr. Sheridan told me, that there 
was sufficient proof on which to ground an action against these men, but 
that it would be a tedious process, and cost a great deal of money. The 
post-boys were therefore dismissed, and we did not pursue the inquiry any 
further. As Mr. Sheridan saw the terror 1 was in at the very idea of again 
venturing on the road to Dover, he promised to accompany us thither him- 
self, but added that, having some indispensable business on his hands, he 
could not go for some days. He took us then to Isleworth, a country-house 
which he had near Richmond, on the banks of the Thames, and as he was 
not able to dispatch his business so quickly as he expected, we remained 
for a month in that hospitable retreat, which both gratitude and friendship 
rendered so agreeable to us.'' 

It is impossible to read this narrative, with the recollection, at 
the same time,* in our minds of the boyish propensity of Sheri- 
dan to what are called practical jokes, without strongly suspect- 
ing that he was himself the contriver of the whole adventure. 
The ready attendance of the Justice, — the " unknown gentleman" 
deposed to by the post-boys, — the disappearance of the laquais, 
and the advice given by Sheridan that the affair should be pur- 
sued no further, — all strongly savor of dramatic contrivance, and 
must have afforded a scene not a little trying to the gravity of 
him who took the trouble of getting it up. With respect to his 
motive, the agreeable month at his country-house sufficiently ex- 
plains it ; nor could his conscience have felt much scruples about 
an imposture, which, so far from being attended wdth anydisagreea 
ble consequences, furnished the lady with an incident of romance, 
of which she was but too happy to avail herself, and procured 
for him the presence of such a distinguished party, to grace and 
enliven the festivities of Isleworth.* 

* In the Memoirs of Mad. de Genlis. lateH- '^nblislied, she supplies a slill more interest 

VOL. n. '* 



154 MEMOIES OF THE LIFE OF THE 

At the end of the month, (adds Madame de Genlis,) 

" Mr. Slieridan having finished his business, we set off together for Dover, 
himself, his son, and an English friend of his, Mr. Reid, with whom I was 
but a few days acquainted. It was now near the end of the month of No- 
vember, 1792. The wind being adverse, detained us for five days at Dover, 
during all which time Mr. Sheridan remained with us. At last the wind 
grew less unfavorable, but still blew so violently that nobody would advise 
me to embark. I resolved, however, to venture, and Mr. Sheridan attend- 
ed us into the very packet-boat, where I received his farewell with a feel- 
ing of sadness which I cannot express. He would have crossed with us. 
but that some indispensable duty, at that moment, required his presence in 
England. He, however, left us Mr. Reid, who had the goodness to accom- 
pany us to Paris.'' 

In 1793 war was declared between England and France. 
Though hostilities might, for a short time longer, have been 
avoided, by a more accommodating readiness in listening to the 
overtures of France, and a less stately tone on the part of the 
English negotiator, there could hardly have existed in dispassion- 
ate minds any hope of averting the war entirely, or even of 
postponing it for any considerable period, hideed, however 
rational at first might have been the expectation, that France, if 
left to pass through the ferment of her own Revolution, would 
have either settled at last into a less dangerous form of power, 
or exhausted herself into a state of harmlessness during the pro- 
cess, this hope had been for some time frustrated by the crusade 
proclaimed against her liberties by the confederated Princes of 
Europe. The conference at Pilnltz and the Manifesto of the 
Duke of Brunswick had taught the French people what they 
were to expect, if conquered, and had given to that inundation 
of energy, under which the Republic herself was sinking, a vent 

ing key to his motives for such a contrivance. It appears, from the new recollections of 
this lady, that "he was passionately in love with Pamela," and that, before her depar- 
ture from England, the folh'wing scene took place : — " Two days before we set out, Mr. 
Sheridan made, in my presence, his declaration of love to Pamela, who was affected by 
hia agreeable manner and high ciiaracier. and accepted the offer of his hand with plea- 
sure. In consequence of this, it was settled that he was to marry her on our return from 
France, which was expected to take place in a fortnight." I suspect this to be but a 
continuation of the Romance of Dartford. 



RiaHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 155 

and direction outwards that transferred all the ruin to her ene- 
mies. In the wild career of aggression and lawlessness, of con- 
quest without, and anarchy within, which naturally followed 
such an outbreak of a whole maddened people, it would 
have been difficult for England, by any management whatever, 
to keep herself uninvolved in the general combustion, — even 
had her own population been much less heartily disposed than 
they were then, and ever have been, to strike in with the great 
discords of the world. 

That Mr. Pitt himself was slow and reluctant to yield to the 
necessity of hostile measures against France, appears from the 
whole course of his financial policy, down to the very close of 
the session of 1792. The confidence, indeed, with which he 
looked forward to a long continuance of peace, in the midst of 
events, that were audibly the first mutterings of the earthquake, 
seemed but little indicative of that philosophic sagacity, which 
enables a statesman to see the rudiments of the Future in the 
Present.* "It is not unreasonable," said he on the 21st of 
February, 1792, " to expect that the peace which we now enjoy 
should continue at least fifteen years, since at no period of the 
British history, whether we consider the internal situation of 
this kingdom or its relation to foreign powers, has the prospect 
of war been farther removed than at present." 

In pursuance of this feeling of security, he, in the course of 
the session of 1791-2, repealed taxes to the amount of 200,000^. 
a year, made considerable reductions in the naval and military 
establishments, and allowed the Hessian Subsidy to expire, with- 
out any movement towards its renewal. He likewise showed 
his perfect confidence in the tranquillity of the country, by break- 



* From the following words in his Speech on the communication from France in 1800, 
he appears, himself, to have been aware of his want of foresight at the commencement 
of the war : — 

" Besides this, the reduction of ouf Peace Establishment in the year 1791, and continued 
to the subsequent year, is a fact, from which the inference is indisputable ; a fact, which, 

am afraid, shows not only that we were not waiting for the occasion of war, but that, 
m our pariiality for a pacific system, we had indulged ourselves in a fond and credulovjfl 
•ecurity, which wisdom and discretion would not have dictated." 



156 MEMOiES OF THE LIFE OF THE 

ing off a negotiation into which he had entered with the holders 
of the four per cents, for the reduction of their stock to three 
per cent. — saying, in answer to their demand of a larger bonus 
than he thought proper to give, " Then we will put off the re- 
duction of this stock till next year." The truth is, Mr. Pitt was 
proud of his financial system ; — the abolition of taxes and the 
Reduction of the National Debt were the two great results t 
which he looked as a proof of its perfection ; and while a war 
he knew, would produce the very reverse of the one, it would 
leave little more than the name and semblance of the other. 

The alarm for the safety of their establishments, which at this 
time pervaded the great mass of the people of England, carried 
the proof of its own needlessness in the wide extent to which it 
spread, and the very small minority that was thereby left to be 
the object of apprehension. That in this minority, (which was, 
with few exceptions, confined to the lower classes,) the elements 
of sedition and insurrection were actively at work, cannot be de- 
nied. There was not a corner of Europe where the same ingre- 
dients were not brought into ferment ; for the French Revolu- 
tion had not only the violence, but the pervading influence of 
the Simoom, and while it destroyed where it immediately passed, 
made itself felt every where. But, surrounded and watched as 
were the few disaffected in England, by all the rank, property 
and power of the country, — animated at that moment by a more 
than usual portion of loyalty, — the dangers from sedition, as yet, 
were by no means either so deep or extensive, as that a strict 
and vigilant exercise of the laws already in being, would not 
have been abundantly adequate to all the purposes of their sup 
pression. 

The admiration, indeed, with which the first dawn of the Revo- 
lution was hailed had considerably abated. The excesses into 
which the new Republic broke loose had alienated the worship 
of most of its higher class of votaries, and in some, as in Mr. 
Windham, had converted enthusiastic admiration into horror ; — 
so that, though a strong sympathy with the general cause of the 
Ravnliitiori was still felt among the few Whigs that remained^ 



HIGHT HOK. RiCHARi) BRlNSLEY SHERIDAN. 157 

the profession of its wild, republican theories was chiefly con- 
fined to two classes of persons, who coincide more frequently 
than they themselves imagine, — the speculative and the ig- 
norant. 

The Minister, however, gave way to a panic which, there is 
every reason to believe, he did not himself participate, and in 
going out of the precincts of the Constitution for new and ar- 
bitrary powers, established a series of fatal precedents, of which 
alarmed Authority will be always but too ready to avail itself. 
By these stretches of power he produced — what was far more 
dangerous than all the ravmgs of club politicians — that vehement 
reaction of feeling on the part of Mr. Fox and his followers, 
which increased with the increasing rigor of the government, and 
sometimes led them to the brink of such modes and principles 
of opposition, as aggressions, so wanton, upon liberty alone could 
have either provoked or justified. 

The great promoters of the alarm were Mr. Burke, and those 
other Whig Seceders, who had for some time taken part with 
the administration against their former friends, and, as is usual 
with such proselytes, outran those whom they joined, on every 
point upon which they before most differed from them. To 
justify their defection, the dangers upon which they grounded it, 
were exaggerated ; and the eagerness with which they called for 
restrictions upon the liberty of the subject was but too worthy 
of deserters not only from their post but from their prmciples. 
One striking difference between these new pupils of Toryism 
and their master was with respect to the ultimate object of the 
war. — Mr. Pitt being of opinion that security against the power 
of France, without any interference whatever with her internal 
affairs, was the sole aim to which hostilities should be directed ; 
while nothing less than the restoration of the Bourbons to the 
power which they possessed before the assembling of the Etats 
Genereaux could satisfy Mr. Burke and his fellow converts to the 
cause of Thrones and Hierarchies. The effect of this diversity 
of objects upon the conduct of the war — particularly afler Mr, 
Pitt had added to " Security for the future," the suspicious sup- 



168 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

plement of " Indemnity for the past" — was no less fatal to the 
success of operations abroad than to the unity of councils at 
home. So separate, indeed, were the views of the two parties 
considered, that the unfortunate expedition, in aid of the Vendean 
insurgents in 1795, was known to be peculiarly the measure of 
the Burke part of the cabinet, and to have been undertaken on 
the sole responsibility of their ministerial organ, Mr. Windham. 

It must be owned, too, that the object of the Alarmists in the 
war, however grossly inconsistent with their former principles, 
had the merit of being far more definite than that of Mr. Pitt ; 
and, had it been singly and consistently pursued from the first, 
with all the vigor and concentration of means so strenuously 
recommended by Mr. Burke, might have justified its quixotism 
in the end by a more speedy and less ruinous success. As it 
was, however, the divisions, jealousies and alarms which Mr. 
Pitt's views towards a future dismemberment of France excited 
not only among the Continental powers, but among the French 
themselves, completely defeated every hope and plan for either 
concert without or co- operation ^^dthin. At tktj same time, the 
distraction of the efforts of England from the heart of French 
power to its remote extremities, in what Mr. Windham called 
" a war upon sugar Islands," was a waste of means as unstates- 
manlike as it was calamitous, and fully entitled Mr. Pitt to the 
satire on his policy, conveyed in the remark of a certain distin- 
guished lady, who said to him, upon hearing of some new acqui- 
sition in the West Indies, " I protest, Mr. Pitt, if you go on thus, 
you will soon be master of every island in the world except just 
those two little ones, England and Ireland."* 

That such was the light in which Mr. Sheridan himself viewed 
the mode of carrying on the war recommended by the Alarm- 
ists, in comparison with that which Mr. Pitt in general adopted, 
appears from the following passage in his speech upon Spanish 
affairs in the year 1808 : — 

" There was hardly a person, except his Right Honorable Friend near 
♦ Mr. Sheridan quoted this anecdote in one of his speeches in 1794. 



RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRtNSLEY SHERIDAN. 159 

him, (Mr. Windham,) and Mr. Burke, who since the Revolution of France 
had formed adequate notions of the necessary steps to be taken. The va- 
rious governments which this country had seen during that period were 
always employed in filching for a sugar-island, or some other object of 
comparatively trifling moment, while the main and principal purpose was 
lost and forgotten." 

Whatever were the failures of Mr. Pitt abroad, at home his 
ascendancy was fixed and indisputable ; and, among all the tri- 
umphs of power which he enjoyed during his career, the tribute 
now paid to him by the Whig Aristocracy, in taking shelter 
under his ministry from the dangers of Revolution, could not 
have been the least gratifying to his haughty spirit. The India 
Bill had ranged on his side the King and the People, and the 
Revolution now brought to his banner the flower of the Nobility 
of 'both parties. His own estimate of rank may be fairly col- 
lected both from the indifference which he showed to its honors 
himself, and from the depreciating profusion with which he lav- 
ished them upon others. It may be doubted whether his respect 
for Aristocracy was much increased, by the readiness which he 
now saw in some of his high-born opponents, to volunteer for 
safety into his already powerful ranks, without even pausing to 
try the experiment, whetTier safety might not have been recon 
cilable with principle in their own. It is certain that, without 
the accession of so m.uch weight and influence, he never could 
have ventured upon the violations of the Constitution that fol- 
lowed — nor would the Opposition, accordingly, have been driven 
by these excesses of power into that reactive violence which was 
the natural consequence of an effort to resist them. The pru- 
dent apprehensions, therefore, of these Noble Whigs would have 
been much more usefully as well as honorably employed, in 
mingling with, and moderating the proceedings of the friends of 
Liberty, than in ministering fresh fuel to the zeal and vindictive- 
ness of her enemies.* 



* The case against these Nob-e Seceders is thus spiritedly stated by Lord Moira : — 
" I cannot ever sit in a cabinet with the Duke of Portland. He appears to nne to have 
done more injury to the Constitution and to the estimation of the higher ranks in this coun- 



160 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

It may be added, too, that in allowing themselves to be per- 
suaded by Burke, that the extiuction of the ancient Noblesse of 
France protended necessarily auy danger to the English Aris- 
tocracy, these ]^oble persons did injustice to the strength of 
their own order, and to the characteristics by which it is proudly 
distinguished from every other race of Nobility in Europe. 
Placed, as a sort of break- water, between the People and the 
Throne, in a state of double responsibility to liberty on one 
side, and authority on the other, the Aristocracy of England hold 
a station which is dignified by its own great duties, and of which 
the titles transmitted by their ancestors form the least important 
ornament. Unlike the Nobility of other countries, where the 
rank and privileges of the father are multiplied through his off- 
spring, and equally elevate them all aoove the level of the com- 
munity, the very highest English Nobleman must consent to be 
the father but of commoners. Thus, connected with the class 
below him by private as well as public sympathies, he gives his 
children to the People as hostages for the sincerity of his zeal in 
their cause— while on the other hand, the People, in return for 
these pledges of the Aristocracy, sends a portion of its own ele- 
ments aloft into that higher region, to mingle with its glories 
and assert their claim to a share in its -power. By this mutual 
transfusion an equilibrium is preserved, like that which similar 
processes maintain in the natural world, and while a healthy, 
popular feeling circulates through the Aristocracy, a sense of 
their own station in the scale elevates the People. 

To tremble for the safety of a Nobility so constituted, with- 
out much stronger grounds for alarm than appear to have existed 
in 1793, was an injustice not only to that class itself, but the 

try than any man on the political stage. By his union with Mr. Pitt he bas 

given it to be understood by the people, that either all the constitutional 
charges which he and his friends for so many years urged against Mr. Pitt 
were groundless, or that, heing solid, there was no difficulty in waving them 
when a convenient partition of powers and emoluments was proposed. In 
either case the people must infer that the constitutional principle which can 
he so played with is unimportant, and that parhamentary professions are no 
security."— I/etfer from the Earl of Moira to Colonel M'Mahon, in 1797. Far- 
liamentary History, 



RIGHT HOK. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN.' Ibl 

whole nation. The world has never yet afforded an example, 
where this artificial distinction between mankind has been turned 
to such beneficial account ; and as no monarchy can exist without 
such an order, so, in any other shape than this, such an order is 
a burden and a nuisance. In England, so happy a conformation 
of her Aristocracy is one of those fortuitous results which time 
and circumstances have brought out in the long-tried experiment 
of her Constitution ; and. while there is no chance of its being 
-^ver again attained in the Old World, there is but little proba- 
bility of its being attempted in the New, — where the youthful 
nations now springing mto life, will, if they are wise, make the 
most of the free career before them, and unencumbered with the 
costly trappings of feudalism, adopt, like their northern neigh- 
bors, that form of government, whose simplicity and cheapness 
are the best guarantees for its efficacy and purity. 

In judging of the policy of Mr. Pitt, during the Revolutionary 
war, his partisans, we know, laud it as having been the means of 
salvation to England, while his opponents assert that it was only 
prevented by chance from being her ruin — and though the event 
gives an appearance of triumph to the former opinion. It by no 
means lemoves or even weakens the grounds of the latter. 
During the first nine years of his administration, Mr. Pitt was, 
in every respect, an able and most useful minister, and, " while 
the sea was calm, show^ed mastership in floating.'' But the great 
events that happened afterwards took him by surprise. When he 
came to look abroad from his cabinet into the storm that was 
brewing through Europe, the clear and enlarged view of the 
higher order of statesmen was wanting. Instead of elevating 
himself above the influence of the agitation and alarm that pre- 
vailed, he gave way to it with the crowd of ordinary minds, 
and even took counsel from the panic of others. The conse- 
quence was a series of measures, violent at home and inefficient 
abroad — far short of the mark where vigor was w^anting, and 
beyond it, as often, where vigor was mischievous. 

When we are told to regard his policy as the salvation of the 
country — when, (to use a figure of Mr. Dundas,) a claim of 



162 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THeJ 

salvage is made for him,— it may be allowed us to consider a little 
the nature of the measures, by which this alleged salvation was 
achieved. If entering into a great war without either consisten- 
cy of plan, or preparation of means, and with a total ignorance 
of the financial resources of the enemy*— if allowing one part of 
the Cabinet to flatter the Trench Koyalists, with the hope of 
seeing the Bourbons restored to undiminished power, while the 
other part acted, whenever an opportunity offered, upon the plan 
of dismembering France for the aggrandizement of Austria, and 
thus, at once, alienated Prussia at the very moment of subsidiz- 
ing him, and lost the confidence of all the Eoyalist party in 
rrance,t except the few who were ruined by English assistance 
at Quiberon— if going to war in 179B for the right of the Dutch to 
a river, and so managing it that in 1794 the Dutch lost their whole 
Seven Provinces— if lavishing more money upon failures than 
the successes of a century had cost, and supporting this profusion 
by schemes of finance, either hollow and delusive, like the Sink- 
ing Fund, or desperately regardless of the future, like the paper 
issues— if driving Ireland into rebellion by the perfidious recall 
of Lord Fitzwiliiam, and reducing England to two of the most 
fearful trials, that a nation, depending upon credit and a navy, 
could encounter, the stoppage of her Bank and a mutiny in her 
fleet— if, finally, floundering on from effort to effort against 
France, and then dying upon the ruins of the last Coalition he 
could muster against her— if all this betokens a wise and able 
minister, then is Mr. Pitt most amply entitled to that name ;— 
then are the lessons of wisdom to be read, like Hebrew, back- 
ward, and waste and rashness and systematic failure to be held 
the only true means of saving a country. 

Had even success, by one of those anomalous accidents, which 
sometimes baffle the best founded calculations of wisdom, been 

* Into his erroneous calculations upon this point he is supposed to have 
been led by Sir Francis D'lvernois. 

t Among other instances, the Abbe Maury is reported to have said at 
Home in a large company of his countrymen—*' Still we have one remedy— 
let us not allow France to be divided— we have seen the partition of Poland: 
we must all turn Jacobins to preserve our country." 



BIGHT HON. EICHAKD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 163 

the imroediate result of this long monotony of error, it could not, 
except with those to whom the event is every thing — " Eventus, 
stultorum magister ""^ — reflect back merit upon the means by 
which it was achieved, or, by a retrospective miracle, convert that 
into wisdom, which chance had only saved from the v/orst conse- 
quences of folly. Just as well might we be called upon to pro- 
nounce Alchemy a wise art, because a perseverance in its failures 
and reveries had led by accident to the discoveries of Chemistry. 
But even this sanction of good-luck was wanting to the unredeem- 
ed mistakes of Mr. Pitt. During the eight years that intervened 
between his death and the termination of the contest, the adop- 
tion of a far wiser policy was forced upon his more tractable 
pupils ; and the only share that his measures can claim in the 
successful issue of the war, is that of having produced the griev- 
ance that was then abated — of having raised up the power op- 
posed to him to the portentous and dizzy height, from which it 
then fell by the giddiness of its own elevation,f and by the re- 
action, not of the Princes, but the People of Europe against its 
yoke. 

What would have been the course of affairs, both foreign and 
domestic, had Mr. Fox — as was, at one time, not improbable — 
been the Minister during this period, must be left to that super 
human knowledge, which the schoolmen call " media scientia^'^^ 
and which consists in knowing all that would have happened, had 
events been otherwise than they have been. It is probable that 
some of , the results would not have been so different as the res- 
pective principles of Mr. Pitt and Mr. Fox might naturally lead 
us, on the first thought, to assert. If left to himself, there is little 
doubt that the latter, from the simple and fearless magnanimity 
of his nature, would have consulted for the public safety with that 
moderation which true courage inspires ; and that, even had it 
been necessary to suspend the Constitution for a season, he would 



* A saying of the wise Fabius. 

f ^^ summisque negcLtum 

Stare diu.'* Lucan. 



164 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

have known how to veil the statue of Liberty,* without leaving, 
like his rival, such marks of mutilation on its limbs. But it is 
to be recollected that he would have had to encounter, in his own 
ranks, tlie very same patrician alarm, which could even to Mr. 
Pitt give an increase of momentum against liberty, and which 
the possession of power would have rendered but more sensitive 
and arbitrary. Accustomed, too, as he had long been, to yield 
to the mfluence of Burke, it v/ould have required more firmness 
than habitually belonged to Mr. Fox, to withstand the persever- 
ing impetuosity of such a counsellor, or keep the balance of his 
mind unshaken by those stupendous powers, which, like the 
horses of the Sun breaking out of the ecliptic, carried every 
thing they seized upon, so splendidly astray : — 

" quaque iyyipetus egit, 
Hac sine lege ruunt, altoque sub cethcre Jlxis 
IncuTsant stellis, rapiunique per avia currumP 

"WTiere'er the impulse drives, they burst away 
In lawless grandeur ; — break into the array 
Of the fix'd stars, and bound and blaze along 
Their devious course, magnificently wrong ! 

Having hazarded these general observations, upon the views and 
conduct of the respective parties of England, during the Crusade 
now begun against the French people, I shall content myself 
w^ith briefly and cursorily noticing the chief questions upon which 
Mr. Sheridan distinguished himself, in the course of the parlia 
mentary campaigns that followed. The sort of guerilla warfa 
which he and the rest of the small band attached to Mr. F 
carried on, during this period, against the invaders of the Con- 
stitution, is interesting rather by its general character than its 
detail ; for in these, as usual, the episodes of party personality 
are found to encroach disproportionately on the main design, 
and the grandeur of the cause, as \^ewed at a distance, becomes 
diminished to our imaginations by too near an approach. Eng- 

* *^ II y a des cos ou ilfaut mettre pour un moment un voile sur la Libertej crnnme Von 
cac7i€Z«ss<att«e5(^aira«."~MoNTBSQuiEr, liv. xii. chap. 20. 



EIGHT HOK. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 165 

lishmen, however, will long look back to that crisis with interest ; 
and the names of Fox, of Sheridan, and of Grey will be affectionate- 
ly remembered, when that sort of false elevation, which party-feel- 
ing now gives to the reputations of some who were opposed to 
them, shall have subsided to its due level, or been succeeded by 
oblivion. They who act against the general sympathies of man- 
kind, however they may be artificially buoyed up for the mo- 
ment, have the current against them in the long run of fame ; 
while the reputation of those, whose talents have been employed 
upon the popular and generous side of human feelings, receives, 
through all time, an accelerating impulse from the countless 
hearts that go with ;' t in its course. Lord Chatham, even now, 
supersedes his son in fame, and will leave him at an immeasursr 
ble distance with posterity. 

Of the events of the private life of Mr. Sheridan, during this 
stormy part of his political career, there remain but few memo- 
rials among his papers. As an illustration, however, of his lov^ 
of betting — the only sort of gambling in which he ever indulged 
— the following carious list of his wagers for the year is not 
unamusing : — 

" 26th May, 1793. — Mr. Sheridan bets Gen. Fitzpatrick one hundred 
guineas to fifty guineas, that within tw@ years from this date some measure 
is adopted in Parliament which shall be {honci fide) considered as the 
adoption of a Parliamentary Reform. 



" 29/A January J 1793. — Mr, S. bets Mr. Boothby Clopton five hundred 
guineas, that there is a Reform in the Representation of the people of Eng- 
land within three years from the date hereof. 



" 2^th January^ 1793. — Mr. S. bets Mr. Hardy one hundred guineas to 
fifty guineas, that Mr. W. Windham does not represent Norwich at the next 
general election. 

** %^th January^ 1793.— 3flr. S. bets Gen. 'Jitzpatrick fifty guineas, that a 
corps of British troops are senc to Holland within two months of the date 
hereof. 



" IBth March, 1793.-- Mr. S. bets Lord Titckfield two hundred guinea. 



166 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

that the D. of Portland is at the head of an Administration ^n or before 
the 18th of March, 1796 : Mr. Fox to decide whether any place the Duke 
may then fill shall bond fide come within the meaning of this bet. 



'• 2Dth March, 1793. — Mr. S. bets Mr. Hardy one hundred guineas, that 
the three per cent, consols are as high this day twelvemonth as at the date 
hereof. 



" Mr. S. bets Gen. Tarleton one hundred guineas to fifty guineas, that Mr. 
Pitt is first Lord of the Treasury on the 28th of May, 1795.— Mr. S. bets Mr. 
A. St. John fifteen guineas to five guineas, ditto. — Mr. S. bets Lord 
Sefton one hundred and forty guineas to forty guineas, ditto. 



*' l^th March, 1793.— Lord Titchfield and Loi'd W. Russell bet Mr. S. 
three hundred guineas to two hundred guineas, that Mr. Pitt is first Lord 
of the Treasury on the 19th of March, 1795. 



" ISth March, 1793.— Lord Titchfield bets Mr. S. twenty-five guineas to 
fifty guineas, that Mr. W Windham reioresents Norwich at the next general 
eli^ction. 

As a sort of moral supplement to this strange list, and one 
of those insights into character and conduct which it is the duty 
3f a biographer to give, I shall subjoin a letter, connected evi- 
dently with one of the above speculations • — 

"Sir, 
" I am very sorry that I have been so circumstanced as to 
have been obliged to disappoint you respecting the payment of 
the five hundred guineas : when I gave the draughts on Lord 

* * I had every reason to be assuied he would accept them, as 

* * had also. I enclose you, as you wall see by his desire, the 
letter in which he excuses his not being able to pay me this part 
of a larger sum he owes me, and I cannot refuse him any time 
he requires, however inconvenient to me. I also enclose you 
tw^o draughts accepted by a gentleman from whom the money 
will be due to me, and on whose punctuality I can rely. I ex- 
tremely regret that I cannot at this juncture command the 
money. 



BIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 167 

" At the same time that I regret yom' being put to any incon 
Venience by this delay, I cannot help adverting to the circum- 
stance which perhaps misled me into the expectation that you 
would not unwillingly allow me any reasonable time I might 
want for the payment of this bet. The circumstance I mean, 
however discreditable the plea, is the total inebriety of some of 
the party, particularly of myself, when I made this preposterous 
bet. I doubt not you will remember having yourself observed 
on this circumstance to a common friend the next day, with an 
intimation that you should not object to being off; and for my 
part, when I was informed that I had made such a bet and for 
such a sum, — the first, such folly on the face of it on my part, 
and the latter so out of my practice, — I certainly should have 
proposed the cancelling it, but that, from the inthnation impart- 
ed to me, I hoped the proposition might come from you. 

" 1 hope I need not for a moment beg you not to imagine 
that I am now alluding to these circumstances as the slightest invali- 
dation of your due. So much the contrary, that I most per- 
fectly admit that from your not having heard any thing further 
from me on the subject, and especially after I might have heard 
that if I desired it the bet might be off, you had every reason 
to conclude that I was satisfied with the wager, and whether 
made in wine or not, was desirous of abiding by it. And this 
was further confirmed by my receiving soon after from you 100/. 
on another bet won by me. 

"Plaving, I think, put this point very fairly, I again repeat 
that my only motive for alluding to the matter was, as some 
explanation of my seeming dilatoriness, which certainly did in 
part arise from always conceiving that, whenever I should state 
what was my real wish the day after the bet was made, you 
would be the more disposed to allow a little time ; — the same 
statement admitting, as it must, the bet to be as clearly and as 
fairly won as possible ; in short, as if I had insisted on it my- 
self the next morning. 

" I have said more perhaps on the subject than can be neces- 



168 MEMOIBS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

sary ; but I should regret to appear negligent to an application 
for a just claim. 

" I have the honor to be, 
" Sir, 

" Your obedient servant, 
''Hertford St Feb. 26. '' E. B. Sheridak." 

Of the public transactions of Sheridan at this time, his speeches 
are the best record. To them, therefore, I shall henceforward 
principally refer my readers, — premising, that though the reports 
of his latter speeches are somewhat better, in general, than those 
of his earlier displays, they still do great injustice to his powers, 
and exhibit little more than the mere Torso of his eloquence, 
curtailed of all those accessories that lent motion and beauty to 
its form. The attempts to give the terseness of his wit particu- 
larly fail, and are a strong illustration of what he himself once 
said to Lord * *. That Nobleman, who among his many «- 
cellent qualities does not include a very lively sense of humor, 
having exclaimed, upon hearing some good anecdote from Sheri- 
dan, " ril go and tell that to our fi-iend * ^." Sheridan called 
him back instantly and said, with much gravity, '• For God's 
sake, don't, my dear * *: a joke is no laughing matter in your 
mouth." 

It is, indeed, singular, that all the eminent English orators — 
with the exception of Mr. Burke and Mr. Windham — should 
have been so little anxious for the correct transmission of their 
eloquence to posterity. Had not Cicero taken more care of even 
his extemporaneous effusions, we should have lost that masterly 
burst of the moment, to which the clemency of Caesar towards 
Marcellus gave birth. The beautiful fragments we have of Lord 
Cliatham are rather traditional than recorded ; — there are but 
t%vo, I believe, of the speeches of Mr. Pitt corrected by himself, 
those on the Budget of 1792, and on the Union with Ireland ; — 
Mr. Yox c®mmitted to writing but one of his, namely, the tribute 
to the memory of the Duke of Bedford ; — and the only speech of 
Mr. Sheridan, that is known with certainty to have pas? uudei 



RIGHT HOK. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 169 

his own revision, was that which he made at the opening of the 
following session, (1794,) in answer to Lord Mornington. 

In the course of the present year he took frequent opportuni- 
ties of expressing his disgust at that spirit of ferocity which had 
so deeply disgraced the cause of the Kevolution. So earnest was 
his interest in the fate of the Eoyal Family of Trance, that, as 
appears from one of his speeches, he drew up a paper on the 
subject, and transmitted it to the republican rulers ;— with the 
view, no doubt, of conveying to them the feelings of the English 
Opposition, and endeavoring to avert, by the influence of his own 
name and that of Mr. Fox, the catastrophe that awaited those 
Eoyal victims of liberty. Of this interesting document I cannot 
discover any traces. 

In one of his answers to Burke on the subject of the French 
Kevolution, advertiug to the charge of Deism and Atheism 
brought against the republicans, he says, 

"As an argument to the feelings and passions of men, the Honorable 
Member had gTeat advantages in dwelling on this topic ; because it was a 
subject which those who disliked everything that had the air of cant and 
profession on the one hand, or of indifference on the other, found it awk- 
ward to meddle with. Establishments, tests, and matters of that nature, 
were proper objects of political discussion in that House, but not general 
charges of Atheism and Deism, as pressed upon their consideration by the 
Honorable Gentleman. Thus far, however, he would say, and it was an 
opinion he had never changed or concealed, that, although no man can 
command his conviction, he had ever considered a deliberate disposition to 
make proselji:es in infidelity as an unaccountable depravity. Whoever at- 
tempted to pluck the belief or the prejudice on this subject, style it which 
he would, from the bosom of one man, woman, or child, committed a bru- 
tal outrage, the motive for which he had never been able to trace or con- 
ceive." 

I quote these words as creditable to the feeling and good 
sense of Sheridan. Whatever may be thought of particular 
faiths and sects, a belief in a life beyond this world is the oniy 
thing that pierces through the walls of our prison-house, and lets 
hope shine in upon a scene, that would be otherwise bewildered 
and desolate. The proselytism of tho Atheist is, indeed, a dismal 



170 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

mission. TTiat believers, who have each the same heaven in 
prospect, should invite us to join them on their respective ways 
to it, is at least a benevolent officiousness, — but that he, who has 
no prospect or hope himself, should seek for companionship in 
his road to annihilation, can only be explained by that tendency 
in human creatures to count upon each other in their despair, as 
well as their hope. 

In the speech upon his own motion relative to the existence of 
seditious practices in the country, there is some lively ridicule, 
upon the panic then prevalent. For instance : — 

" The alarm had been brought forward in great pomp and form on Satur- 
day morning. At night all the mail-coaches were stopped ; the Duke of 
Kichmond stationed himself, among other curiosities, at the Tower ; a great 
municipal officer, too, had made a discovery exceedingly beneficial to the 
people of this country. He meant the Lord Mayor of London, who had 
found out that there was at the King's Arms at Cornhill a Debating So' 
ciety, w^here principles of the most dangerous tendency were propagated ; 
where people went to buy treason at sixpence a head ; where it was retail- 
ed to them by the glimmering of an inch of candle ; and five minutes, to be 
measured by the glass, w^ere allowed to each traitor to perform his part in 
overturning the State." 

It was in the same speech that he gave the well-known and 
happy turn to the motto of the Sun newspaper, which was at that 
time known to be the organ of the Alarmists. " There was one 
paper," he remarked, " in particular, said to be the property of 
members of that House, and published and conducted under their 
immediate direction, which had for its motto a garbled part of a 
beautiful sentence, when it might, with much more propriety, 
have assumed the whole — 

'' Soleyn quis dicer e falsurn 
Atideat ? Ille etiain ccecos instare tumultus 
Scepe monet, fraudemque et operta tumescere bella.^^ 

Among the subjects that occupied the greatest share of his 
attention during this Session, was the Memorial of Lord Auck- 
land to the States-General, — which document he himself brought 



KIGHT HON. KICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 171 

under the notice of Parliament as deserving of severe reproba- 
tion for the violent and vindictive tone which it assumed towards 
the Commissioners of the National Convention. It was upon one 
of the discussions connected with this subject that a dispute, as 
to the correct translation of the word " malheureux,^'' was main- 
tained with much earnestness between him and Lord Melville — 
two persons, the least qualified, perhaps, of any in the House, tc 
volunteer as either interpreters or pronouncers of the Frenan 
language. According to Sheridan, " ces malheiireux^'' was to be 
translated " these wretches," while Lord Melville contended, to 
the no small amusement of the House, that '''molly roo^^'' (as he 
pronounced it,) meant no m^ore than " these unfortunate gentle- 
men." 

In the November of this year Mr. Sheridan lost by a kind of 
death which must have deepened the^feeling of the loss, the most 
intimate of all his companions, Tickell. If congeniality of dispo- 
sitions and pursuits were always a strengthener of affection, the 
friendship between Tickell and Sheridan ought to have been of 
the most cordial kind ; for they resembled each other in almost 
every particular — in their wit, their wants, their talent, and their 
thoughtlessness. It is but too true, however, that friendship in 
general gains far less by such a community of pursuit than it 
loses by the competition that naturally springs out of it ; and 
that two wits or two beauties form the last sort of alliance, in 
which we ought to look for specimens of sincere and cordial friend- 
ship. The intercourse between Tickell and Sheridan was not free 
from such collisions of vanity. They seem to have lived, indeed, 
in a state of alternate repulsion and attraction ;- and, unable to do 
Vv'ithout the excitement of each other's vivacity, seldom parted 
without trials of temper as well as of wit. Being both, too, 
observers of character, and each finding in the other rich mate- 
rials for observation, their love of ridicule could not withstand 
such a temptation, and they freely criticised each other to com- 
mon friends, who, as is usually the case, agreed with both. Still, 
however, there was a whim and sprightliness even about their 
mischief, which made it seem rather an exercise of ingenuity than 



172 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

an indulgence of ill nature ; and if they had not carried on this 
intellectual warfare, neither would have liked the other half so 
well. 

The two principal productions of Tickell, the "Wreath of 
Fashion" and " Anticipation," were both upon temporary sub- 
jects, and have accordingly passed hito oblivion. There are, 
how^ever, some graceful touches of pleasantry in the poem ; and 
the pamphlet, (which procured for him not only fame but a place 
in the Stamp-office,) contains passages of which the application 
and the humor have not yet grown stale. As Sheridan is the 
hero of the Wreath of Fashion, it is but right to quote the verses 
that relate to him ; and I do it with the more pleasure, because 
they also contain a well-merited tribute to Mrs. Sheridan. After 
a description of the various poets of the day that deposit their 
offerings in Lady Millar's " Vase of Sentiment," the author thu3 
proceeds : — 

'^ At Fashion's shrine behold a gentler bard 
Gaze on the mystic vase with fond regard — 
But see, Thalia checks the doubtful thought, 
* Canst thou, (she cries,) with sense, with genius fraught, 
Canst thou to Fashion's tyranny submit, 
Secure in native, independent wit ? 
Or yield to Sentiment's insipid rule, 
Bj Taste, by Fancy, chac'd through Scandal's school? 
Ah no — be Sheridan's the comic page, 
Or let me fly with Garrick from the stage. 
Haste then, my friend, (for let me boast that name^) 
Haste to the opening path of genuine fame ; 
Or, if thy muse a gentler theme pursue, 
Ah, 'tis to love and thy Eliza due I 
For, sure, the sweetest lay she well may claim. 
Whose soul breathes harmony o'er all her frame ; 
While wedded love, with ray serenely clear, 
Beams from her eye, as from its proper sphere." 

In the year 1781, Tickell brought out at Drury-Lane aji ODera 
called '^ The Carnival of Venice," on which there is the following 
rem^^rk ii; Mrs, C?ouc}x's Memoirs ;-^" Many songs in this piec^ 



BIGH'T HON. RICHARD BRIKSLEY SHERIDAN. 1 

SO perfectly resemble in poetic beauty those which adorn The 
Duenna, that they declare themselves to be the offspring of the 
same muse. ' I know not how far this conjecture may be 
founded, but there are four pretty lines which I remember in 
this opera, aid which, it may be asserted without hesitation, 
Sheridan never wrote. He had no feeling for natural scenery,* 
nor is there a trace of such a sentiment discoverable through his 
poetry. The following, as well as I can recollect, are the lines : — 

" And while the moon shines on the stream, 
And as soft music breathes around, 
The feathering oar returns the gleam, 
And dips in concert to the sound.'' 

I have already given a humorous Dedication of the Rivals, 
written by Tick ell on the margin of a copy of that play in my 
possession. I shall now add another piece of still more happy 
humor, with which he has filled, in very neat hand-writing, the 
three or four first pages of the same copy. 

" The Rivals, a Comedy — one of the best in the English language — writ- 
ten as long ago as the reign of George the Third. The author's name was 
Sheridan — he is mentioned by the historians of that age as a man of un- 
common abilities, very little improved by cultivation. His confidence in 
the resoui'ces of his own genius and his aversion to any sort of labor were 
so great that he could not be prevailed upon to learn either to read or write. 
He was, for a short time, Manager of one the play-houses, and conceived 
the extraordinary and almost incredible project of composing a play ex- 
tempore, which he was to recite in the Green-room to the actors, who were 
immediately to come on the stage and perform it. The players refusing to 
undertake their parts at so short a notice, and with so little preparation, he 
threw up the management in disgnst. 

* In corroboration of this remark, I have been allowed to quote the following passage 
of a letter written b}' a very eminent person, whose name all lovers of the Picturesque 
associate with their best enjoyment of its beauties : — 

" At one time I saw a good deal of Sheridan — he and his first wife passed some time 
here, and he is an instance that a taste for poetry and for scenery are not always united. 
Had this house been in the midst of Hounslow Heath, he could not have taken less in- 
terest in all ar ^iind it : his delight was in shooting, all and every day, and my game- 
keeper said thai 3f all the gentlemen with he never knew so bad a 
8hot.'» 



l?i MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

" He was a member of the last Parliaments that were summoned in Eng- 
land, and signalized himself on many occasions by his wit and eloquence^ 
though he seldom came to the House till the debate was nearly concluded, 
and never spoke, unless he was drunk. He lived on a footing of great in- 
timacy with the famous Fox, who is said to have concerted with him the 
audacious attempt which he made, about the year 1783, to seize the whole 
property of the East India Company, amounting at that time to above 
12,000,000/. sterling, and then to declare himself Lord Protector of the 
realm by the title of Carlo Khan. This desperate scheme actually received 
the consent of the lowei House of Parliament, the majority of whom were 
bribed by Fox, or intimidated by his and Sheridan's threats and violence ; 
and it is generally believed that the Revolution would have taken place, if 
the Lords of the King's Bedchamber had not in a body surrounded the 
throne and shown the most determined resolution not to abandon their 
posts but with their lives. The usurpation being defeated, Parliament v, as 
dissolved and loaded with infamy. Sheridan was one of the few members 
of it who were re-elected : — the Burgesses of Stafford, whom he had kept 
in a constant state of intoxication for near three weeks, chose him again to 
represent them, which he was well qualified to do. 

" Fox's Whig party being very much reduced, or rather almost annihi- 
lated, he and the rest of the conspirators remained quiet for some time ; 
till, in the year 1788, the French, in conjunction with Tippoo Sultan, having 
suddenly seized and divided between themselves the whole of the British 
possessions in India, the East India Company broke, and a national bank- 
ruptcy was apprehended. During this confusion Fox and his partisans as- 
sembled in large bodies, and made a violent attack in Parliament on Pitt, 
the King's first minister : — Sheridan supported and seconded him. Parlia- 
ment seemed disposed to inquire into the cause of the calamity : the na- 
tion was almost in a state of actual rebellion ; and it is impossible for us, 
at the distance of three hundred years, to form any judgment what dread- 
ful consequences might have followed, if the King, by the advice of the 
Lords of the Bedchamber, had not dissolved the Parliament, and taken the 
administration of affairs into his own hands, and those of a few confidential 
servants, at the head of whom he was pleased to place one Mr. xltkinson, a 
merchant, who had acquired a handsome fortune in the Jamaica trade, and 
passed universally for a man of unblemished integrity. His Majesty hav- 
ing now no farther occasion for Pitt, and being desirous of rewarding him 
for his past services, and, at the same time, finding an adequate employ- 
ment for his great talents, caused him to enter into holy orders, and pre- 
sented him with the Deanery of Windsor ; where he became an excellent 
preacher, and published several volumes of sermons, all of which are now 
lost. 

" To return to Sheridan : — on the abrogation of Parliaments, he entered 



RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDA>^. 175 

to a closer connection than ever with Fox and a few others of lesser note, 
forming together as desperate and profligate a gang as ever disgraced a 
civilized country. They were guilty of every species of enormity, and 
went so far as even to commit robberies on the highway, with a degree of 
audacity that could be equalled only by the ingenuity with which they es- 
caped conviction. Sheridan, not satisfied with eluding, determined to mock 
the justice of his country, and composed a Masque called ' The Foresters,^ 
containing a circumstantial account of some of the robberies he had com- 
mitted, and a good deal of sarcasm on the pusillanimity of those whom he 
nad robbed, and the inefficacy of the penal laws of the kingdom. This piece 
was acted at Drury-Lane Theatre with great applause, to the astonishment 
of all sober persons, and the scandal of the nation. His Majesty, who had 
icng wished to curb the licentiousness of the press and the theatres, thought 
this a good opportunity. He ordered the performers to be enlisted into the 
army, the play-house to be shut up, and all theatrical exhibitions to be for- 
bid on pain of death. Drury-Lane play-house was soon after converted into 
a barrack for soldiers, which it has continued to be ever since. Sheridan 
was arrested, and, it was imagined, would have suffered the rack, if he had 
not escaped from his guard by a stratagem, and gone over to Ireland in a 
balloon with which his friend Fox furnished him. Immediately on his ar- 
rival in Ireland, he put himself at the head of a party of the most violent 
eformers, commanded a regiment of Volunteers at the siege of Dublin in 
/91, and was supposed to be the person who planned the scheme for tar- 
ing and feathering Mr. Jenkinson, the Lord Lieutenant, and forcing him 
in that condition to sign the capitulation of the Castle. The persons who 
were to execute this strange enterprise had actually got into the Lord Lieu- 
tenant's apartment at midnight, and would probably have succeeded in their 
project, if Sheridan, who was intoxicated with wliiskey, a strong liquor 
much in vogue with the Volunteers, had not attempted to force open the 

door of Mrs. 's bed-chamber, and so given the alarm to the garrison, 

who instantly flew to arms, seized Sheridan and every one of his party, and 
confined them in the castle-dungeon. Sheridan was ordered for execution 
the next day, but had no sooner got his legs and arms at liberty, than he 
began capering, jumping, dancing, and making all sorts of antics, to the 
utter amazement of the spectators. When the chaplain endeavored, by se- 
rious advice and admonition, to bring him to a proper sense of his dreadful 
situation, he grinned, made faces at him, tried to tickle him, and played a 
thousand other pranks with such astonishing drollery, that the gravest 
countenances became cheerful, and the saddest hearts glad. The soldiers 
who attended at the gallows were so delighted with his merriment, which 
they deemed magnanimity, that the sheriffs began to apprehend a rescue, 
Mid ordered the hangman instantly to do his duty. He went off in a loud 



It3 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

horse-laugh, and east a look towards the Castle, accompanied with a ges- 
ture expressive of no great respect. 

"Thus ended the life of this singular and unhappy man— a melancholy 
instance of the calamities that attend the misapplication of great and 
splendid ability. He was married to a very beautiful and amiable woman, 
for whom he is said to have entertained an unalterable affection. He had 
one son, a boy of the most promising hopes, whom he would never suffer to 
be instructed in the first rudiments of literature. He amused himself, how- 
ever, with teaching the boy to draw portraits with his toes, in which he 
soon became so astonishing a pi'oficient that he seldom failed to take a 
most exact likeness of every person who sat to him. 

"There are a few more plays by the same author, all of them excellent. 

"For further information concerning this strange man, vide ' Macpher- 
son's Moral History,' Art. 'Drunkenness,' " 



^^ 



niGHT HON. RICHARD BRIKSLEY SUEBIDAN. 177 



CHAPTER YII. 

SPEECH IN ANSWER TO LORD MORNINGTO]N.— COALITION 
OF THE WHIG SECEDERS WITH MR. PITT. — MR. CANNING. 
— EVIDENCE ON THE TRIAL OF HORNE TOOKE. — THE 
" GLORIOUS FIRST OF JUNE." — MAl^RIAGE OF MR. SHERI- 
DAN. — PAMPHLET OF MR. REEVES. — DEBTS OF THE 
PRINCE OF WALES. — SHAKSPEARE MANUSCRIPTS. — 
TRIAL OF STONE. — MUTINY AT THE NORE. — SECESSION 
OF MR. FOX FROM PARLIAMENT. 

In the year 1794, the natural consequences of the policy pur- 
sued by Mr. Pitt began rapidly to unfold themselves both at 
home and abroad.* The confederated Princes of the Continent, 
among whom the gold of England was now the sole bond of 
union, had succeeded as might be expected from so noble an 
incentive, and, powerful only in provoking France, had by every 
step they took but ministered to her aggrandizement. In the 
mean time, the measures of the English Minister at home were 
directed to the two great objects of his legislation — the raising 
of supplies and the suppressing of sedition ; or, in other words^ 
to the double and anomalous task of making the people pay 
for the failures of their Royal allies, and suffer for their sympa- 
thy with the success of their republican enemies. It is the opi- 
nion of a learned Jesuit that it was by aqua regia the Golden 
Calf of the Israelites was dissolved — and the cause of Kings was 

• See, for a masterly exposure of the errors of the War, the Speech of Lord Lansdowne 
this year on bringing forward his Motion for Peace. 

I cannot let the name of this Nobleman pass, without briefly expressing the deep grati- 
tude which I feel to him, not only for his own kindness to me, when introduced, as a boy 
to his notice, but for the friendship of his truly Noble descendant, which I, in a great de- 
gree, owe to him, and which has long been the pride and happiness of my life. 
VOL. II. 8* 



i?8 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THlil 

the Rojal solvent, in which the wealth of Great Britain now 
melted irrecoverably away. While the successes, too, of the 
French had already lowered the tone of the Minister from pro- 
jects of aggression to precautions of defence, the wounds which, in 
the wantonness of alarm, he had inflicted on the liberties of the 
country, were spreading an inflammation around them that threat- 
ened real danger. The severity of the sentence upon Muir and 
Palmer in Scotland, and the daring confidence with which charges 
of High Treason were exhibited against persons who were, at the 
worst, but indiscreet reformers, excited the apprehensions of even 
the least sensitive friends of freedom. It is, indeed, difficult to 
say how far the excited temper of the Government, seconded by 
the ever ready subservience of state-lawyers and bishops, might 
have proceeded at this moment, had not the acquittal of Tooke 
and his associates, and the triumph it diffused through the coun- 
try, given a lesson to Power such as England is alone capable of 
giving, and which will long be remembered, to the honor of that 
great political safeguard, — that Life-preserver in stormy times, 
— the Trial by Jury. 

At the opening of the Session, Mr. Sheridan delivered his 
admirable answer to Lord Mornington, the report of which, as I 
have already said, was corrected for publication by himself In 
this fine speech, of which the greater part must have been unpre- 
pared, there is a natural earnestness of feeling and argument that 
is well contrasted with the able but artificial harangue that pre- 
ceded it. In referring to the details which Lord Mornington had 
entered into of the various atrocities committed in France, he 
says : — 

" But what was the sum of all that he had told the House ? that great 
nnd dreadful enormities had been committed, at which the heart shuddered, 
and which not merely wounded every feeling of humanity, but disgusted 
and sickened the soul. All this was most true ; but what did all this prove ? 
What, but that eternal and unalterable truth which had always presented 
itself to his mind, in whatever way he had viewed the subject, namely, 
that a long established despotism so far degraded and debased human na- 
ture, as to render it*; subjects, on the first recovery of their rights, unfit for 
the exercise of them But never had he, or would he meet but with re- 



RIGHT HON. EICHARD BRIKSLEY SaKRIDAiST. 179 

probation that mode of argument which went, in fact, to establish, as an 
inference from this truth, that those who had been long slaves, ought there- 
fore to remain so for ever ! No ; the lesson ought to be. he would again 
repeat, a tenfold horror of that despotic form of government, which had 
60 profaned and changed the nature of civilized man, and a still more jea- 
lous apprehension of any system tending to withhold the rights and liber- 
ties of our fellow-creatures. Such a form of government might be con- 
sidered as twice cursed ; while it existed, it was solely responsible for the 
miseries and calamities of its subjects ; and should a day of retribution 
come, and the tyranny be destroyed, it was equally to be charged with all 
the enormities which the folly or frenzy of those who overturned it should 
commit. 

'' But the madness of the French people was not confined to their pro- 
ceedings within their own country ; we, and all the Powers of Europe, had 
to dread it. True ; but was not this also to be accounted for ? Wild and 
unsettled as their state of mind was, necessarily, upon the events which 
had thrown such power so suddenly into their hands, the surrounding States 
had goaded them into a still more savage state of madness, fury, and des- 
peration. AVe had unsettled their reason, and then reviled their insanity ; 
we drove them to the extremities that produced the evils we arraigned ; 
we baited them like wild beasts, until at length we made them so. The 
conspiracy of Pilnitz, and the brutal threats of the Royal abettors of that 
plot against the rights of nations and of men, had, in truth, to answer for 
all the additional misery, horrors, and iniquity, which had since disgraced 
and incensed humanity. Such has been your conduct towards France, that 
you have created the passions which you persecute ; you mark a nation to 
be cut off from the world ; you covenant for their extermination ; you 
swear to hunt them in their inmost recesses ; you load them with every 
species of execration ; and you now come forth with whining declama- 
tions on the horror of their turning upon you with the fury which you in- 
spired.'' 

Having alluded to an assertion of Condorcet, quoted by Lord 
Mornington, that " Revolutions are always the work of the mino- 
rity," he adds livelily : — 

•' If this be true, it certainly is a most ominous thing for the enemies of 
Reform in England ; for, if it holds true, of necessity, that the minority 
still prevails, in national contests, it must be a consequence that the smaller 
the minority the more certain must be the success. In what a dreadful sit- 
uatic:> then must the Noble Lord be and all the Alarmists !— for, never 
surely was a minority so small, so thin in number as the present. Con- 



180 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THil 

scions, however, that M. Condorcet was mistaken in our object, I am glad 
to find that we are terrible in proportion as we are few ; I rejoice that the 
liberality of secession which has thinned our ranks has only served to make 
us more formidable. The Alarmists will hear this with new apprehensions ; 
they will no doubt return to us with a view to diminish our force, and en- 
cumber us with their alliance in order to reduce us to insignificance." 

We have here another instance, in addition to the many that have 
been given, of the beauties that sprung up under Sheridan's cor- 
recting hand. This last pointed sentence was originally thus : 
" And we shall sw^ell our numbers in order to come nearer in a 
balance of insignificance to the numerous host of the majority." 

It was at this time evident that the great Whig Seceders would 
soon yield to the invitations of Mr. Pitt and the vehement per- 
suasions of Burke, and commit themselves still further with the 
Administration by accepting of office. Though the final arrange- 
ments to this effect w^ere not completed till the summer, on 
account of the lingering reluctance of the Duke of Portland and 
Mr. Windham, Lord Loughborough and others of the former 
Opposition had already put on the official livery of the Minister. 
It is to be regretted that, in almost all cases of conversion to the 
side of powder, the coincidence of some w^orldly advantage with 
the change should make it difficult to decide upon the sincerity 
or disinterestedness of the convert. That these Noble Whigs 
were sincere in their alarm there is no reason to doubt ; but the 
lesson of loyalty they have transmitted would have been far 
more edifying, had the usual corollary of honors and emoluments 
not followed, and had they left; at least one instance of political 
conversion on record, w^here the truth was its own sole reward, 
and the proselyte did not subside into the placeman. Mr. She- 
ridan w^as naturally indignant at these desertions, and his bitter- 
ness overflow's in many passages of the speech before us. ' Lord 
Mornington having contrasted the privations and sacrifices 
demanded of the French by their Minister of Finance with those 
required of the English nation, he says in answer : — 

*' The Noble Lord need not remind us, that there is no great danger of 
our Chancellor of the Exchequer making any such experiment. I can more 



RIGHT HOK. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 181 

easily fancy another sort of speech for our prudent Minister. I can more 
easily conceive him modestly comparing himself and his own measures with 
the character and conduct of his rival, and saying, — ' Do I demand of you, 
wealthy citizens, to lend your hoards to Government without interest ? On 
the contrary, when I shall come to propose a loan, there is not a man of you 
to whom I shall not hold out at least a job in every part of the subscription, 
and an usurious profit upon every pound you devote to the necessities ot 
your country. Do I demand of you, my fellow-placemen and brother-pen- 
sioners, that you should sacrifice any part of your stipends to the public 
exigency ? On the contrary, am I not daily increasing your emoluments 
and your numbers in proportion as the country becomes unable to provide 
for you ? Do I require of you, my latest and most zealous proselytes, of 
you Avho have come over to me for the special purpose of supporting the 
war — a war, on the success of which you solemnly protest, that the salva- 
tion of Britain, and of civil society itself, depend — do I require of you, that 
you should make a temporary sacrifice, in the cause of human nature, of 
the greater part of your private incomes ? No, gentlemen, I scorn to take 
advantage of the eagerness of your zeal ; and to prove that I think the 
sincerity of your attachment to me needs no such test, I will make your 
interest co-operate with your principle : I will quarter many of you on the 
public supply, instead of calling on you to contribute to it ; and, while 
their whole thoughts are absorbed in patriotic apprehensions for their 
country, I will dexterously force upon others the favorite objects of the 
vanity or ambition of their lives.' * ♦ * * « 

***** ***** 

" Good God, Sir, that he should have thought it prudent to have forced 
this contrast upon our attention ; that he should triumphantly remind us 
of everything that shame should have withheld, and caution would have 
buried in oblivion ! Will those who stood forth with a parade of disinter- 
ested patriotism, and vaunted of the sacrifices they had made, and the ex- 
posed situation tliey had chosen, in oi der the better to oppose the friends 
of Brissot in England — will they thank the Noble Lord for reminding us 
how soon these lofty professions dwindled into little jobbing pursuits for 
followers and dependents, as unfit to fill the offices procured for them, as 
the offices themselves were unfit to be created ? — Will the train of nev»'ly 
titled alarmists, of supernumerary negotiators, of pensioned paymasters, 
agents and commissaries, thank him for remarking to us how profitable 
their panic has been to themselves, and how expensive to their country ? 
What a contrast, indeed, do we exhibit ! — What ! in such an hour as this, at 
a moment pregnant with the national fate, v/hen, pressing as the exigency 
may be, the hard task of squeezing the money from the pockets of an im- 
poverished people, from the toll, the drudgery of the shivering poor, must 
tjiake the most practised collector's heart ache while he tears it from them 



182 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

—can it be, that people of high rank, and professing high principles, that 
they or their families should seek to thrive on the spoils of misery, and fat- 
ten on the meals wrested from industrious poverty ? Can it be, that this 
should be the case with the very persons, who state the unprecedented peril 
of the country as the sole cause of their being found in tha ministerial ranks ? 
The Constitution is in danger, religion is in danger, the very existence of 
the nation itself is endangered ; all personal and party considerations ought 
to vanish ; the war irnst be supported by every possible exertion, and by 
every possible sacrifice ; the people must not murmur at their burdens, it 
is for their salvation, their all is at stake. The time is come, when all 
honest and disinterested men should rally round the Throne as round a 
standard ; — for what ? ye honest and disinterested men, to receive, for your 
own private emolument, a portion of those very taxes wrung from the peo- 
ple on the pretence of saving them from the poverty and distress which 
you say the enemy would inflict, but which you take care no enemy shall 
be able to aggravate. Oh! shame! shame! is this a time for selfish in- 
trigues, and the little dirty traffic for lucre and emolument ? Does it suit 
the honor of a gentleman to ask at such a moment ? Does it become the 
honesty of a Minister to grant ? Is it intended to confirm the pernicious 
doctrine, so industriously propagated by many, that all public men are 
impostors, and that every politician has his price ? Or even where there 
is no principle in the bosom, why does not prudence hint to the mercenary 
and the vain to abstain a while at least, and wait the fitting of the times ? 
Improvident impatience ! Nay, even from those who seem to have no di- 
rect object of office or profit, what is the language which their actions 
speak ? The Throne is in danger! — ' we will support the Throne ; but let 
us share the smiles of Royalty ;' — the order of Nobility is in danger! — • I 
will fight for Nobility,' says the Viscount, 'but my zeal would be much 
greater if I were made an Earl.' * Rouse all the Marquis within me,' ex- 
claims the Earl, ' and the peerage never turned forth a more undaunted 
champion in its cause than I shall prove.' ' Stain my green riband blue,' 
cries out the illustrious Knight, * and the fountain of honor will have a 
fast and faithful servant,' What are the people to think of our sincerity ? — 
What credit are they to give to our professions ? — Is this system to be per- 
severed in ? Is there nothing that whispers to that Right Honorable Gen- 
tleman that the crisis is too big, that the times are too gigantic, to be ruled 
by the little hackneyed and every-day means of ordinary corruption ?" 

The discussions, indeed, during the whole of this Session, were 
marked by a degree of personal acrimony, which in the present 
more sensitive times would hardly be borne. Mr. Pitt and Mr. 
Sheridan came, most of all, into collision; and the retorts of the 



RIGHT HON. RICHAED BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 183 

Minister not unfrequently proved with what weight the haughty 
sarcasms of Power may descend even upon the tempered buck- 
ler of Wit. 

It wafe in this Session, and on the question of the Treaty with 
the King oi Sardinia, that Mr. Canning made his first appearance, 
as an orator, in the House. lie brought with him a fame, already 
full of promise, and has been one of the brightest ornaments of 
the senate and the country ever since. From the political faith 
in which he had been educated, under the very eyes of Mr. 
Sheridan, who had long been the friend of his family, and at 
whose house he generally passed his college vacations, the line 
that he was to take in the House of Commons seemed already, 
according to the usual course of events, marked out for him. 
Mr. Sheridan had, indeed, with an eagerness which, however 
premature, showed the value which he and others set upon the 
alliance, taken occasion in the course of a laudatory tribute to 
Mr. Jenkinson,* on the success of his first effort in the House, to 
announce the accession which his own party was about to receive, 
in the talents of another gentleman, — the companion and friend 
of the young orator who had now distinguished himself Whe- 
ther this and other friendships, formed by Mr. Canning at the 
University, had any share in alienating him from a political creed, 
which he had hitherto, perhaps, adopted rather from habit and 
authority than choice — or, whether he was startled at the idea of 
appearing for the first time in the world, as the announced pupil 
and friend of a person who, both by the vehemence of his politics 
and the irregularities of his life, had put himself, in some degree, 
under the ban of public opinion — or whether, lastly, he saw the 
difficulties which even genius like his would experience, in rising 
to the full growth of its ambition, under the shadowing branches 
of the Whig aristocracy, and that superseding influence of birth 
and connections, which had contributed to keep even such men as 
Burke and Sheridan out of the Cabinet — which of these motives 
it was that now decided the choice of the young political Her- 
cules, between the two paths that equally wooed his footsteps 
yione, perhaps, but himself can fully determine. His decisior^ 

? Np\v Lord L yerpool. 



184 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

we know, was in favor of the Minister and Toryism ; and, after 
a friendly and candid explanation to Sheridan of the. reasons and 
feelings that urged him to this step, he entered into terms with 
Mr. Pitt, and was by him immediately brought into Parliament. 

However dangerous it might be to exalt such an example into 
a precedent, it is questionable whether, in «thus resolving to join 
the ascendant side, Mr. Canning has not conferred a greater 
benefit on the country than he ever would have been able to 
effect in the ranks of his original friends. Tliat Party, which has 
now so long been the sole depository of the powder of the State, 
had, in addition to the orighial narrowness of its principles, 
contracted all that proud obstinacy, in antiquated error, which is 
the invariable characteristic of such monopolies; and which, 
however consonant with its vocation, as the chosen instrument of 
the Crown, should have long since invalided it in the service of 
a free and enlightened people. Some infusion of the spirit of 
the times into this body had become necessary, even for its own 
preservation, — in the same manner as the inhalement of youthful 
breath has been recommended, by some physicians, to the infirm 
and superannuated. This renovating inspiration the genius of 
Mr. Canning has supplied. His first political lessons were de- 
rived from sources too sacred to his young admiration to be 
forgotten. He has carried the spirit of these lessons with him 
into the councils which he joined, and by the vigor of the graft, 
which already, indeed, shows itself in the fruits, bids fair to 
change altogether the nature of Toryism. 

Among the eminent persons summoned as witnesses on the 
Trial of Home Tooke, which took place in November of this 
year, was Mr. Sheridan ; and, as his evidence contains some 
curious particulars, both with regard to himself and the state of 
political feeling in the year 1790, I shall here transcribe a part 
of it :— 

" He, (Mr. Sheridan,) said he recollects a meeting to celebrate the esta- 
blishment of liberty in France in the year 1790. Upon that occasion he 
moved a Resolution drawn up the day before by the Whig club. Mr. 
^prpie Tooke, he says, made no objection to his motion; but proposed ap 



EIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 185 

amendment. Mr. Tooke stated that an unqualified approbation of the 
French Revolution, in the terms moved, might produce an ill effect out of 
doors, a disposition to a revolution in this country, or, at least, be misrepre- 
sented to have that object ; he adverted to the circumstance of their hav- 
ing all of them national cockades in their hats 5 he proposed to add some 
qualifying expression to the approbation of the French Revolution, a de- 
claration of attachment to the principles of our own Constitution ; he said 
Mr. Tooke spoke in a figurative manner of the former Government of 
France ; he described it as a vessel so foul and decayed, that no repair 
could save it from destruction, that in contrasting our state with that, he 
said, thank God, the main timbers of our Constitution are sound ; he had 
before observed, however, that some reforms might be necessary ; he said 
that sentiment was received with great disapprobation, and w ith very rude 
interruption, insomuch that Lord Stanhope, who was in the chair, inter- 
fered ; he said it had happened to him, in many public meetings, to diifei 
with and oppose the prisoner, and that he has frequently seen him receiv- 
ed with very considerable marks of disapprobation, but he never saw them 
affect him much ; he said that he himself objected to Mr. Tooke's amend- 
ment ; he thinks he withdrew his amendment, and moved it as a separate 
motion ; he said it v/as then carried as unanimously as his own motion had 
been ; that original motion and separate motion are in these words: — ' That 
this meeting does most cordially rejoice in the establishment and confirma- 
tion of liberty in France ; and it beholds with peculiar satisfaction the senti- 
ments of amity and good will which appear to pervade the people of that 
country towards this kingdom, especially at a time when it is the manifest 
interest of both states that nothing should interrupt the harmony which at 
present subsists between them, and which is so essentially necessary to the 
freedom and happiness, not only of the French nation, but of all mankind.' 
^' Mr. Tooke wished to add to his motion some qualifying clause, to guard 
against misunderstanding and misrepresentation : — that there was a wide 
difference between England and France ; that in France the vessel was so 
foul and decayed, that no repair could save it from destruction, whereas 
in England, we had a noble and stately vessel, sailing proudly on the bosom 
of the ocean ; that her main timbers w^ere sound, though it was true, after 
so long a course of years, she might want some repairs. Mr. Tooke's mo- 
tion was, — ' That we feel equal satisfaction that the subjects of England, 
by the virtuous exertions of their ancestors, have not so arduous a task to 
perform as the French have had, but have only to maintain and improve 
the Constitution which their ancestors have transmitted to them.'-^ This 
was carried unanimously.'^ 

The trial of Warren Hastings still " dragged its slow length 



186 MEMOIES OF THE LIFE OF THE 

along," and in the May of this year Mr. Sheridan was called upon 
for his Reply on the Begum Charge. It was usual, on these oc- 
casions, for the Manager who spoke to be assisted by one of his 
brother Managers, whose task it was to carry the bag that con- 
tained his papers, and to read out whatever Minutes might be 
referred to in the course of the argument. Mr. Michael Angelo 
Taylor was the person who undertook this office for Sheridan ; 
but, on the morning of the speech, upon his asking for the bag that 
he was to carry, he was told by Sheridan that there was none — 
neither bag nor papers. They must manage, he said, as well as they 
could without them ; — and when the papers were called for, his 
friend must only put the best countenance he could upon it. As 
for himself, " he would abuse Ned Law — ridicule Plumer's long 
orations — make the Court laugh — please the women, and, in short, 
with Taylor's aid would get triumphantly through his task." His 
opening of the case was listened to with the profoundest atten- 
tion ; but when he came to contrast the evidence of the Com- 
mons with that adduced by Hastings, it was not long before the 
Chancellor interrupted him, with a request that the printed Min- 
utes to which he referred should be read. Sheridan answered 
that his friend Mr. Taylor would read them ; and Mr. Taylor 
affected to send for the bag, while the orator begged leave, in the 
meantime, to proceed. Again, however, his statements rendered 
a reference to the Minutes necessary, and again he was inter- 
rupted by the Chancellor, while an outcry after Mr. Sheridan's 
bag was raised in all directions. At first the blame was laid on 
the solicitor's clerk — then a messenger was dispatched to Mr. 
Sheridan's house. In the meantime, the orator was proceeding 
brilliantly and successfully in his argument ; and, on some fur- 
thei interruption and expostulation from the Chancellor, raised 
his voice and said, in a dignified tone, '' On the part of the Com- 
mons, and as a Manager of this Impeachment, I shall conduct my 
case as I think proper. I mean to be correct, and Your Lord- 
ships, having the printed Minutes before you, will afterwards see 
whether I am right or wrong." 

Puring the bustle produced by the inquiries after the bag, Mr. 



RIGHT HOK. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 187 

Fox, alarmed at the mconvenienee which, he feared, the want of 
it might occasion Sheridan, ran up from the Managers' room, and 
demanded eagerly the cause of this mistake from Mr. Taylor; 
who, hiding his mouth with his hand, whispered him, (in a tone 
of which they alone, who have heard this gentleman relate the 
anecdote, can feel the full humor,) " The man has no bag !" 

The whole of this characteristic contrivance was evidently in- 
tended by Sheridan to raise that sort of surprise at the readiness 
of his resources, which it was the favorite triumph of his vanity 
to create. I have it on the authority of Mr. William Smythe, 
that, previously to the delivery of this speech, he passed two or 
three days alone at Wanstead, so occupied from morning till 
night in writing and reading of papers, as to complain in the 
evenings that he " had motes before his eyes." This mixture of 
real labor with apparent carelessness was, indeed, one of the most 
curious features of his life and character. 

Together with the political contests of this stormy year, he 
had also on his mind the cares of his new Theatre, which opened 
on the 21st of April, with a prologue, not by himself, as might 
have been expected, but by his friend General Fitzpatrick. He 
found time, however, to assist in the rapid manufacture of a little 
piece called " The Glorious First of June," which was acted im- 
mediately after Lord Howe's victory, and of which I have found 
some sketches* in Sheridan's hand-writing, — though the dialogue 

♦ One of these is as follows :— 

" ScESTS I. — Miss Leake — Miss Decamp — Walsh. 
"Short dialogue— Nancy persuading Susan to go to the Fair, where there is an entertain 
ment to \je given by the Lord of the Manor — Susan melancholy because Henry, her lover, 
is at sea with the British Admiral — Song — Her old mother scolds from the cottage — her 
little brother (Walsh) comes from the house, with a message — laughs at his sister's fears 
and sings — Trio. 

' ' ScEXE U.—The Fair . 
" Puppet-show — dancing bear— bells— hurdy-gurdy— recruiting party— song and chorus 

''Ballet— WEgville. 
" Susan says she has no pleasure, and will go and take a solitary walk. 

" SCE.VE lU.— Dark Wood. 
* Sjisan — gipsy — tells her fortune — recitative and djlty. 



188 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

was, no doubt, supplied (as Mr. Boaden says,) by Cobb, or some 
other such pedissequus of the Dramatic Muse. This piece was 
written, rehearsed, and acted within three days. The first opera- 
tion of Mr. Sheridan towards it was to order the mechanist of 
the theatre to get ready two fleets. It was in vain that ob- 
jections were started to the possibility of equipping these paste- 
board armaments in so short an interval — Lord Chatham's fa- 
mous order to Lord Anson was not more peremptory.* The 
two fleets were accordingly ready at the time, and the Duke of 
Clarence attended the rehearsal of their evolutions. This mix 
ture of the cares of the Statesman and the Manager is one of 
those whimsical peculiarities that made Sheridan's own life so 
dramatic, and formed a compound altogether too singular ever 
to occur again. 

" Scene IV. 

*' Sea-Fight— hell and the devil 1 

*' Henry and Susan meet — Chorus introducing burden, 

"Rule Britannia." 

Among other occasional trifles of this kind, to which Sheridan condescended for the 

advantage of the theatre, was the pantomime of Robinson Crusoe, brought out, I believe, 

in 1781, of which he is understood to have been the author. There was a practical joke in 

this pantomime, (where, in pulling off a man's boot, the leg was pulled off with it,) which 

the famous Delpini laid claim to as his own, and publicly complained of Sheridan's having 

stolen it from him. The punsters of the day said it was claimed as literary property — 

being "in usum Delpini.^' 

Another of these inglorious tasks of the author of The School for Scandal, was the fur- 
nishing of the first outline or Programme of " The Forty Thieves." His brother-in-law, 
Ward, supplied the dialogue, and Mr. Colman was employed to season it with an infu- 
sion of jokes. The following is Sheridan's sketch of one of the scenes : — 

" Ali Baba. 

"Bannister called out of the cavern boldly by his son — comes out and falls on the 
ground a long time, not knowing him — says he would only have taken a little gold to 
keep off misery and save his son, &c. 

" Afterwards, when he loads his asses, his son remmdshim to be moderate — but it was 
a promise made to thieves — ' it gets nearer the owner, if taken from the stealer' — the 
son disputes this morality — ' they stole it, ergo^ they have no right to it ; and we steal it 
from the stealer, ergo^ our title is twice as bad as theirs.' " 

* For the expedition to the coast of France, after the Convention of Closter-seven. 
When he ordered the fleet to be equipped, and appointed the time and place of its ren- 
dezvous, Ix>rd Anson said it would be impossible to have it prepared so soon. " It may," 
said Mr. Pitt, " be done ; and if the ships are not ready at the time specified, I shall sig- 
nify Your Lordship's neglect to the King, and impeach you in the House of Commons." 
This intimation produced the desired effect : the ships were ready. See Anecdolep oi 
Lord Ctiatham, vol. i. 



HiGHT HON". RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 189 

In the spring of the following year, (1795,) we find Mr. Sheri- 
dan paying that sort of tribute to the happiness of a first mar- 
riage which is implied by the step of entering into a second. 
The lady to whom he now united himself was Miss Esther Jane 
Ogle, daughter of the Dean of Winchester, and grand-daughter, 
by the mother's side, of the former Bishop of Winchester. We 
have here another proof of the ready mine of wealth which the 
theatre opened, — as in gratitude it ought, — to him who had en- 
dowed it with such imperishable treasures. The fortune of the 
lady being five thousand pounds, he added to it fifteen thousand 
more, which he contrived to raise by the sale of Drury-Lane 
shares ; and the whole of the sum was subsequently laid out in 
the purchase from Sir W. Geary of the estate of Polesden, in 
Surrey, near Leatherhead. The Trustees of this settlement were 
Mr. Grey, (now Lord Grey,) and Mr. Whitbread. 

To a man at the time of life which Sheridan had now at- 
tained — four years beyond that period, at which Petrarch thought 
it decorous to leave off writing love-verses* — a union with a 
young and accomplished girl, ardently devoted to him, must 
have been like a renewal of his own youth ; and it is, indeed, 
said by those who were in habits of intimacy with him at this 
period, that they had seldom seen his spirits in a state of more 
buoyant vivacity. He passed much of his time at the house of 
his father-in-law near Southampton ; — and in sailing about with 
his lively bride on the Southampton river, (in a small cutter 
called the Phsedria, after the magic boat in the " Fairy Queen,") 
forgot for a while his debts, his theatre, and his politics. It was 
on one of these occasions that my friend Mr. Bowles, who was 
a frequent companion of his parties,f wrote the following verses, 
which were much admired, as they well deserved to be, by Sheri- 



* See his Epistle, '' ad Poster itatem," where, after lamenting the many years which 
he had devoted to love, he adds : ' ' Mox vero ad qiuidragesimum annum appropinquans, 
dum adhuc et c «loris satis esset," &c. 

I Among other distinguished persons present at these excursions were Mr. Joseph 
Richardson, Dr. Howley, now Bishop of London, and Mis. Wilmot, now Lady Dacre, a 
lady, whose various talents, — not the less delightful fji being so feminine, — like the 
groupe of the Graces, reflect beauty on each other. 



190 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

dan, for the sweetness of their thoughts, and the perfect muj?io 
of their rhythm • — 

** Smooth went our boat upon the summer seas, 
Leaving, (for so it seem'd,) the world behind, 
Its cares, its sounds, its shadows : we reclin'd 

Upon the sungy deck, heard but the breeze 

That o'er us whispering pass'd or idly play'd 
With the lithe flag aloft. — A woodland scene 
On either side drew its slope line of green, 

And hung the water's shining edge with shade. 

Above the woods, Netley ! thy ruins pale 
Peer'd, as we pass'd ; and Vecta's* azure hue 
Beyond the misty castlef met the view ; 

Where in mid channel hung the scarce-seen sail 
So all was calm and sunshine as we went 
Cheerily o'er the briny element. 

Oh ! were this little boat to us the world, 
As thus we wander'd far from sounds of care, 
Circled with friends and gentle maidens fair. 

Whilst morning airs the waving pendant curl'd. 
How sweet were life's long voyage, till in peace 
We gain'd that haven still, where all things cease 1" 

The events of this year but added fresh impetus to that reac- 
tion upon each other of the Government and the People, which 
such a system of misrule is always sure to produce. Among 
the worst effects, as I have already remarked, of the rigorous 
policy adopted by the Minister, was the extremity to which it 
drove the principles and language of Opposition, and that sanc- 
tion which the vehement rebound against oppression of such in- 
fluencing spirits as Fox and Sheridan seemed to hold out to the 
obscurer and more practical assertors of freedom. This was at 
no time more remarkable than in the present Session, during 
the discussion of those arbitrary measures, the Treason and Se- 
dition Bills, when sparks were struck out, in the collision of the 
two principles, which the combustible state of public feeling at 
the moment rendered not a little perilous. On the motion that 

* Isle of Wight. t Kclshot Castle. 



HIGHT HON, BICHARD BPJNSLEY SHERIDAN. 191 

the House should resolve itself into a Committee upon the Trea- 
son Bill, Mr. Fox said, that " if Ministers were determined, by 
means of the corrupt influence they already possessed in the 
two Houses of Parliament, to pass these Bills, in violent oppo- 
sition to the declared sense of the great majority of the nation, 
and they should be put in force with all their rigorous provi- 
sions, — if his opinion were asked by the people as to their obe- 
dience, he should tell them, that it was no longer a question of 
moral obligation and duty, but of prudence." Mr. Sheridan 
followed in the bold footsteps of his friend, and said, that " if a 
degraded and oppressed majority of the people applied to him, 
he would advise them to acquiesce in those bills only as long as 
resistance was imprudent." This language was, of course, visited 
with the heavy reprobation of the Ministry ;— but their own 
partisans had already gone as great lengths on the side of abso- 
lute power, and it is the nature of such extremes to generate each 
other. Bishop Horsley had preached the doctrine of passive 
obedience in the House of Lords, asserting that " man's abuse 
of his delegated authority is to be torne with resignation, like 
any other of God's judgments ; and that the opposition of the 
individual to the sovereign power is an opposition to God's pro- 
vidential arrangements." The promotion of the Right Reverend 
Prelate that followed, was not likely to abate his zeal in the 
cause of power ; and, accordingly, we find him in the present 
session declaring, in his place in the House of Lords, that " the 
people have nothing to do with the laws but to obey them." 

The government, too, had lately given countenance to writers, 
the absurd slavishness of whose doctrines would have sunk be- 
low contempt, but for such patronage. Among the ablest of 
them was Arthur Young, — one of those renegades from the 
cause of freedom, who, like the incendiary that set fire to the 
Temple with the flame he had stolen from its altar, turn the 
fame and the energies which they have acquired in defence 
of liberty against her. This gentleman, to whom his situation as 
Secretary to the Board of Agriculture afforded facilities for the 
circulation of his political heresies, did not scruple, in one of his 



192 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF MS 

pamphlets, roundly to assert, that unequal representation, rotteii 
boroughs, long parliaments, extravagant courts, selfish Ministers, 
and corrupt majorities, are not only intimately interwoven with 
the practical freedom of England, but, in a great degree, the 
causes of it. 

But the most active and notorious of these patronized advo- 
:3ates of the Court was Mr. John Reeves, — a person who, in his 
capacity of President of the Association against Republicans and 
Levellers, had acted as a sort of Sub-minister of Alarm to Mr. 
Burke. In a pamphlet, entitled " Thoughts on the English Go- 
vernment," which Mr. Sheridan brought under the notice of the 
House, as a libel on the Constitution, this pupil of the school of 
Filmer advanced the startling doctrine that the Lords and Com- 
mons of England derive their existence and authority from the 
King, and that the Kingly government could go on, in all its 
functions, without them. This pitiful paradox found an apologist 
in Mr. Windham, whose chivalry in the new cause he had es- 
poused left Mr. Pitt himself at a wondering distance behind. His 
speeches in defence of Reeves, (which are among the proofs that 
remain of that want of equipoise observable in his fine, rather 
than solid, understanding,) have been with a judicious charity 
towards his memory, omitted in the authentic collection by Mr. 
Amyot. 

When such libels against the Constitution were not only pro- 
mulgated, but acted upon, on one side, it was to be expected, and 
hardly, perhaps, to be regretted, that the repercussfen shovild be 
heard loudly and warningly from the other. Mr. Fox, by a sub- 
sequent explanation, softened down all that was most menacing 
in his language ; and, though the word " Resistance," at full 
length, should, like the hand- writing on the wall, be reserved for 
the last intoxication of the Belshazzars of this world, a letter or 
two of it may, now and then, glare out upon their eyes, with- 
out producing any thing worse than a salutary alarm amid their 
revels. At all events, the high and constitutional grounds on 
which Mr. Fox defended the expressions he had hazarded, may 
\vell reconcile us to any risk incurred by their utterance. The 



klGB.T HON. BlCHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. l9S 

tribute to the house of Eussell, in the grand and simple passage 
beginning, " Dear to this country are the descendants of the 
illustrious Russell," is as applicable to that Noble family now as 
it was then ; and w^ill continue to be so, I trust, as long as a 
single vestige of a race, so pledged to the cause of liberty, re- 
mains. 

In one of Mr. Sheridan's speeches on the subject of Reeves's 
libel, there are some remarks on the character of the people of 
England, not only candid and just, but, as applied to them at that 
trying crisis, interesting : — 

'' Never was there," he said, " any country in which there was so much 
aljsence of public principle, and at the same time so many instances of pri- 
vate worth. Never Avas there so much charity and humanity towards the 
poor and the distressed ; any act of cruelty or oppression never failed to 
excite a sentiment of general indignation against its authors. It was a cir- 
cumstance peculiarly strange, that though luxury had arrived to such a 
pitch, it had so little effect in depraving the hearts and destroying the mo- 
rals of people in private life ; and almost every day produced some fresh 
example of generous feelings and noble exertions of benevolence. Yet 
amidst these phenomena of private virtue, it was to be remarked, that there 
was an almost total want of public spirit, and a most deplorable contempt 
of public principle. ******* 

Vv^hen Great Britain fell, the case would not be with her as with Rome in 
former times. Yv^hen Rome fell, she fell by the weight of her own vices. 
The inhabitants were so corrupted and degraded, as to be unworthy of a 
continuance of prosperity, and incapable to enjoy the blessings oi liberty ; 
their minds were bent to the state in Avhich a reverse of fortune placed 
them. But when Great Britain falls, she will fall with a people full of pri- 
va*-e worth and virtue ; she will be ruined by the profligacy of the gover- 
nors, and the security of her inhabitants, — the consequence of those per- 
nicious doctrines which have taught her to place a false confidence in her 
strength and freedom, and not to look with distrust and apprehension to 
the misconduct and corruption of those to whom she has trusted the ma- 
nagement of her resources." 

To this might have been added, that when Great Britain falls, 
it will not be from either ignorance of her rights, or insensibility 
to their value, but from that want of energy to assert them which 
a hic;h state of civilization produces. The love of ease that lux- 
vox.. II. 9 



194 MEMOIES OF THE LIFE OF THE 

urj brings along with it, — the selfish and compromising spirit, 
in which the members of a polished society countenance each 
other, and which reverses the principle of patriotism, by sacri- 
ficing public interests to private ones, — the substitution of intel 
lectual for moral excitement, and the repression of enthusiasm 
by fastidiousness and ridicule, — these are among the causes that 
undermine a people, — that corrupt in the very act of enlighten- 
ing them ; till they become, what a French writer calls " esprits 
exigeans tt caracteies complaisans^^'' and the period in which theii 
rights are best understood may be that in which they most easily 
surrender them. It is, indeed, with the advanced age of free 
States, as with that of individuals, — they improve in the theory 
of their existence as they grow unfit for the practice of it ; till, 
at last, deceiving themselves with the semblance of rights gone 
by, and refining upon the forms of their institutions after they 
have lost the substance, they smoothly sink into slavery, with the 
lessons of liberty on their lips. 

Besides the Treason and Sedition Bills, the Suspension of the 
Habeas Corpus Act was another of the momentous questions 
which, in this as well as the preceding Session, were chosen as 
points of assault by Mr. Sheridan, and contested with a vigor 
and reiteration of attack, which, though unavailing against the 
massy majorities of the Minister, yet told upon public opinion 
so as to turn even defeats to account. 

The marriage of the Prince of Wales to the Princess Caroline 
of Brunswick having taken place in the spring of this year, it was 
proposed by His Majesty to Parliament, not only to provide an 
establishment for their Royal Highnesses, but to decide on the 
best manner of liquidating the debts of the Prince, which were 
calculated at 630,000/. On the secession of the leading Whigs, in 
1792, His Royal Highness had also separated himself from Mr. 
Fox, and held no further intercourse either with him or any of 
his party, — except, occasionally, Mr. Sheridan, — till so late, I be- 
lieve, as the year 1798. The effects of this estrangement are 
sufficiently observable in the tone of the Opposition throughout 
the debates on the Message of the King. Mr. Grey said, that he 



HlGHT HON. KICHARD BKINSLEY SHERIDAjST. 195 

would not oppose the granting of an establishment to the Prince 
equal to that of his ancestors ; but neither would he consent to 
the payment of his debts by Parliament. A refusal, he added, 
to liberate His Royal Highness from his embarrassments would 
certainly prove a mortification ; but it would, at the same time, 
awaken a just sense of his imprudence. Mr. Fox asked, " Was 
the Prince well advised in applying to that House on the subject 
of his debts, after the promise made in 1787?" — and Mr. She- 
ridan, while he agreed with his friends that the application should 
not have been made to Parliament, still gave it as his " positive 
opinion that the debts ought to be paid immediately, for the dig- 
nity of the country and the situation of the Prince, who ought 
not to be seen rolling about the streets, in his state-coach, as an 
insolvent prodigal." With respect to the promise given in 1787, 
and now violated, that the Prince would not again apply to Par- 
liament for the payment of his debts, Mr. Sheridan, with a com- 
municativeness that seemed hardly prudent, put the House in 
possession of some details of the transaction, w^hich, as giving an 
insight into Royal character, are worthy of being extracted. 

" In 1787, a pledge was given to the House that no more debts should be 
contracted. By that pledge the Prince was bound as much as if he had 
given it knowingly and voluntarily. To attempt any explanation of it 
now would be unworthy of his honor, — as if he had suffered it to be wrung 
from him, with a view of afterwards pleading that it was against his better 
judgment, in order to get rid of it. He then advised the Prince not to make 
any such promise, because it was not to be expected that he could himselt 
enforce the details of a system of economy ; and, although he had men of 
honor and abilities about him, he was totally unprovided with men of bu- 
siness, adequate to such a task. The Prince said he could not give such a 
pledge, and agree at the same time to take back his establishment. He 
(Mr. Sheridan) drew up a plan of retrenchment, which was approved of 
by the Prince, and afterwards by His Majesty ; and the Prince told him that 
the promise was not to be insisted upon. In the King's Message, however, 
the promise was inserted, — by whose advice he knew not. He heard it read 
with surprise, and, on being asked next day by the Prince to contradi3t It 
in his place, he inquired Vvhether the Prince had seen the Message before 
it was brought down. Being told that it had been read to him, but that he 
did not understand it as containing a promise, he declined contradicting it, 



196 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THfi 

and told the Prince that he must abide by it, in whatever way it might have 
been obtained. By the plan then settled, Ministers had a check upon the 
Prince's expenditure, which they never exerted, nor enforced adherence to 
the plan. ************ 
While Ministers never interfered to check expenses, of which they could 
not pretend ignorance, the Prince had recourse to means for relieving him- 
self from his embarrassments, which ultimately tended to increase thera. 
It was attempted to raise a loan for him in foreign countries, a measure 
which he thought unconstitutional, and put a stop to ; and, after a con- 
sultation with Lord Loughborough, all the bonds were burnt, although 
with a considerable loss to the Prince. After that, another plan of re- 
trenchment was proposed, upon which he had frequent consultations with 
Lord Thurlow, who gave the Prince fair, open, and manly advice. That No- 
ble Lord told the Prince, that, after the promise he had made, he must not 
think of applying to Parliament ; — that he must avoid being of any party 
in politics, but, above all, exposing himself to the suspicion of being influ- 
enced in political opinion by his embarrassments ; — that the only course he 
could pursue with honor, was to retire from public life for a time, and ap- 
propriate the greater part of his income to the liquidation of his debts. 
This plan was agreed upon in the autum of 1792. Why, it might be asked, 
was it not carried into effect ? About that period his Royal Highness be- 
gan to receive unsolicited advice from another quarter. He was told by 
Lord Loughborough, both in words and in writing, that the plan savored 
too much of the advice given to M. Egalite, and he could guess from what 
quarter it came. For his own part, he was then of opinion, that to have 
avoided meddling in the great political questions which were then coming 
to be discussed, and to have put his affairs in a train of adjustment, would 
have better become his high station, and tended more to secure public re- 
spect to it, than the pageantry of state-liveries," 

The few occasions on which the name of Mr. Sheridan was 
aijain connected with literature, after the final investment of his 
genius in political speculations, were such as his fame might have 
easily dispensed \vdth ; — and one of them, the forgery of the 
Shak spear e papers, occurred in the course of the present year. 
Whether it was that he looked over these manuscripts wi'.h the 
eye more of a manager than of a critic, and considered rather to 
what account the belief in their authenticity might be turned, 
than how far it was founded upon internal evidence ; — or whether, 
as Mr. Ireland asserts, the standard at which he rated the genius 
of Shakspeare was not so high as to inspire him with a very 



RIGHT HON. KICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 197 

watchful fastidiousness of judgment ; certain it is that he was, in 
some degree, the dupe of this remarkable imposture, which, as a 
lesson to the self-confidence of criticism, and an exposure of the 
fallibility of taste, ought never to be forgotten in literary history. 

The immediate payment of 300/. and a moiety of the profits 
for the first sixty nights, were the terms upon Avhich Mr. Sheri- 
dan purchased the play of Vortigern from the Irelands. The 
latter part of the conditions w\as voided the first night ; and, 
though it is more than probable that a genuine tragedy of Shak- 
speare, if presented under similar circumstances, would have 
shared the same fate, the public enjoyed the credit of detecting 
and condemning a counterfeit, w^hich had passed current through 
some of the most learned and tasteful hands of the day. It is 
but justice, however, to Mr. Sheridan to add, that, accordhig to 
the account of Ireland himself, he was not altogether wn'thout 
misgivings during his perusal of the manuscripts, and that his 
name does not appear among the signatures to that attestation of 
their authenticity which his friend Dr. Parr drew up, and was 
himself the first to sign. The curious statement of Mr. Ireland, 
with respect to Sheridan's want of enthusiasm for Shakspeare, 
receives some confirmation from the testimony of Mr. Boaden, 
the biographer of Kemble, who tells us that " Kemble frequently 
expressed to him his wonder that Sheridan should trouble him- 
self so little about Shakspeare." This peculiarity of taste, — if it 
really existed to the degree that these two authorities would lead 
us to infer, — afibrds a remarkable coincidence with the opinions 
of another illustrious genius, lately lost to the w^orld, whose ad- 
miration of the great Demiurge of the Drama w^as leavened with 
the same sort of heresy. 

In the January of this year, Mr. William Stone — the brother 
of the gentleman whose letter from Paris has been given in a 
preceding Chapter — was tried upon a charge of High Treason, 
and Mr. Sheridan was among the witnesses summoned for the 
prosecution. He had already in the year 1794, in consequence 
of a reference from Mr. Stone himself, been examined before the 
Privy Council, relative to a conversation which he had held with 



198 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OP THE 

rJiat gentleman, and, on the day after his examination, had, at 
the request of Mr. Dundas, transmitted to that Minister in writ- 
ing the particulars of his testimony before the Council. There 
is among his papers a rough draft of this Statement, in compar- 
infr which with his evidence upon the trial in the present year, I 
fmd rather a curious proof of the fliithlessness of even the best 
memories. The object of the conversation which he had held 
with Mr. Stone in 1794 — and which constituted the whole of 
their intercourse with each other — was a proposal on the part of 
the latter, submitted alsD to Lord Lauderdale and others, to ex- 
ert his influence in France, through those channels which his 
brother's residence there opened to him, for the purpose of avert- 
ing the threatened invasion of England, by representing to the 
French rulers the utter hopelessness of such an attempt. Mr. 
Sheridan, on the trial, after an ine^ectual request to be allowed 
to refer to his written Statement, gave tne following as part of 
Kis recollections of the conversation : — 

" Mr. Stone stated that, in order to efifect this purpose, he had endea- 
vored to collect the opinions of several gentlemen, political characters in 
this country, whose opinions he thought would be of authority sufiScient 
to advance his object ; that for this purpose he had had interviews with 
different gentlemen ; he named Mr. Smith and, I think, one or two more, 
whose names I do not now recollect. He named some gentlemen connect- 
ed with Administration — if the Counsel will remind me of the name " 

Here Mr. Law, the examining Counsel, remarked, that " upon 
the cross-examination, if the gentlemen knew the circumstance, 
they w^ould mention it." The cross-examination of Sheridan by 
Sergeant Adair w^as as follows : — 

" You stated in the course of your examination that Mr. Stone said there 
was a gentleman connected with Government, to whom he had made a 
fiimilar communication, should you recollect the name of that person if you 
were reminded of it^— I certainly should. — Was it General Murray? — Ge- 
neral Murray certainly.'^ 

Notwithstanding this, however, it appears from the written 
Statement in my possession, d***»wn up soon after the conversa 



RIGHT HO^^. EIOHAPvD BKINSLEY SHERIDAN. 199 

tloii in question, that this "gentleman connected with Govern- 
ment," so difficult to be remembered, was no other than the 
Prime Minister, Mr. Fitt himself. So little is the memory to 
be relied upon in evidence, particularly when absolved from re- 
sponsibility by the commission of its deposit to writing. The 
conduct of Mr. Sheridan throughout this transaction appears to 
have been sensible and cautious. That he was satisfied with it 
himself may be collected from the conclusion of his letter to 
Mr. Dundas : — " Under the circumstances in which the applica- 
tion, (from Mr. Dundas,) has been made to me, I have thought 
it equally a matter of respect to that application and of respect 
to myself, as well as of justice to the person under ^suspicion, to 
give this relation more in detail than at first perhaps might ap- 
pear necessary. My own conduct in the matter not being in 
question, I can only say that were a shnilar case to occur, I think 
1 should act in every circumstance precisely in the manner I did 
on this occasion." 

The parliamentary exertions of Mr. Sheridan this year, 
though various and active, were chiefly upon subordinate ques- 
tions ; and, except in the instance of Mr. Fox's Motion of Cen- 
sure upon Ministers for advancing money to the Emperor with- 
out the consent of Parliament, were not distinguished by any 
signal or sustained displays of eloquence. The grand questions, 
indeed, connected with the liberty of the subject, had been so 
hotly contested, that but few new grounds were left on which to 
renew the conflict. Events, however, — the only teachers of the 
great mass of mankind, — were beginning to eflfect what eloquence 
had in vain attempted. The people of England, though general- 
ly eager for war, are seldom long in discovering that " the cup 
but sparkles near the brim ;" and in the occurrences of the fol- 
lowing year they were made to taste the full bitterness of the 
draught. An alarm for the solvency of the Bank, an impend- 
nig invasion, a mutiny in the fleet, and an organized rebellion in 
Ireland, — such were the fruits of four years' warfare, and they 
were enough to stai'tle even the most sanguine and precipitate 
into reflection. 



200 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

The conduct of Mr. Sheridan on the breaking out of the Mu 
tiny at the Nore is too well known and appreciated to require 
any illustration here. It is placed to his credit on the page of 
history, and was one of the happiest impulses of good feeling 
and good sense combined, that ever public man acted upon in a 
situation demanding so much of both. The patriotic prompti- 
tude of his interference was even more striking than it appeal^ 
in the record of his parliamentary labors ; for, as I have heard 
at but one remove from his own authority, while the Ministry 
were yet hesitating as to the steps they should take, he went to 
Mr. Dun das and said, — " My advice is that you cut the buoys 
on the river — send Sir Charles Grey down to the coast, and set 
a price on Parker's head. If the Administration take this ad- 
vice instantly, they will save the country — if not, they will lose 
it ; and, on their refusal, I w^ill impeach them in the House of 
Commons this very evening." 

Without dwelling on the contrast which is so often drawn — 
less w^ith a view to elevate Sheridan than to depreciate his party 
— betw^een the conduct of himself and his friends at this fearful 
crisis, it is impossible not to concede that, on the scale of public 
spirit, he rose as far superior to them as the great claims of the 
general safety transcend all personal considerations and all party 
ties. It was, indeed, a rare triumph of temper and sagacity. 
With less temper, he would have seen in this awful peril but an 
occasion of triumph over the Minister whom he had so long been 
struggling to overturn — and, with less sagacity, he would have 
thrown away the golden opportunity of establishing himself for 
ever in the affections and the memories of Englishmen, as one 
whose heart was in the common- weal, whatever might be his 
opinions, and who, in the moment of peril, could sink the partisan 
in the patriot. 

As soon as he had performed this exemplary duty, he joined 
Mr. Fox and the rest of his friends who had seceded from Par- 
liament about a week before, on the verv day after the rejection 
of Mr. Grey's motion for a reform. This step, which was intend- 
ed to create a strong sensation, hy hoisting, as it were, the signal 



RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 201 

of despair to the country, was followed by no such striking ef- 
fects, and left little behind but a question as to its prudence and 
patriotism. The public saw, however, with pleasure, that there 
w^ere still a few champions of the constitution, who did not '• leave 
her fair side all unguarded'* in this extremity. Mr. Tierney, 
among others, remained at his post, encountering Mr. l^itt on 
financial questions with a vigor and address to which the latter 
had been hitherto unaccustomed, and perfecting by practice that 
shrewd power of analysis, which has made him so formidable a 
sifter of ministerial sophistries ever since. Sir Francis Burdett, 
too, was just then entering into his noble career of patriotism ; 
and, like the youthful servant of the temple in Euripides, was 
aiming his first shafts at those unclean birds, that settle within 
the sanctuary of the Constitution and sully its treasures : — 

" flrrigvojv TaycCKag 
'A iSXantr^dix 

By a letter from the Earl of Moira to Col. M'Mahon in the 
summer of this year it appears, that in consequence of the calami- 
tous state of the country, a plan had been in agitation among some 
members of the House of Commons, who had hitherto supported 
the measures of the Minister, to form an entirely new Adminis- 
tration, of which the Noble Earl was to be the head, and from 
which both Mr. Pitt and Mr. Fox, as equally obnoxious to the 
public, were to be excluded. The only materials that appear to 
have been forthcoming for this new Cabinet were Lord Moira 
himself. Lord Thurlow, and Sir William Pulteney — the last of 
whom it was intended to make Chancellor of the Exchequer. 
Such a tottering balance of parties, however, could not have been 
long maintained ; and its relapse, after a short interval, into Tory- 
ism, would but have added to the triumph of Mr. Pitt, and in- 
creased his power. Accordingly Lord Moira, who saw from the 
beginning the delicacy and difficulty of the task, wisely abandoned 
it. The share that Mr. Sheridan had in this transaction is too 

VOL. II, 9* 



202 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

honorable to him not to be recorded, and the particulars cannot 
be better given than in Lord Moira's own words : — 

^' You say that Mr. Sheridan has been traduced, as wishing to abandon 
Mr. Fox, and to promote a new Administration. I had accidentally a con- 
Tcrsation with that gentleman at the House of Lords. I remonstrated 
strongly with him against a principle which I heard Mr. Fox's friends in- 
tended to lay down, namely, that they would support a new Administration, 
but that not any of them would take part in it. I solemnly declare, upon 
my honor, that I could not shake Mr. Sheridan's conviction of the pro- 
priety of that determination. He said that he and Mr. Fox's other friends, 
as well as Mr. Fox himself, would give the most energetic support to such 
an Administration as was in contemplation ; but that their acceptance of of- 
fice would appear an acquiescence under the injustice of the interdict sup- 
posed to be fixed upon Mr. Fox. I did not and never can admit the fairness 
of that argument. But I gained nothing upon Mr. Sheridan, to whose up- 
rightness in that respect I can therefore bear the most decisive testimony. 
Indeed I am ashamed of offering testimony, where suspicion ought not to 
have been conceived.' 



RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 203 



CHAPTER VIII. 

PLAY OF ^*THE STRANGER." — SPEECHES IN PARLIAMENT. 
— PIZARRO. — MINISTRY OF MR. ADDINGTON. — FRENCH 
INSTITUTE. — NEGOTIATION WITH MR. KEMBLE. 

The theatrical season of 1798 introduced to the public the 
German drama of " The Stranger," translated by Mr. Thomp- 
son, and (as we are told by this gentleman in his preface) 
altered and improved by Sheridan. There is reason, however, 
to believe that the contributions of the latter to the dialogue were 
nuch more considerable than he was perhaps willing to let the 
translator acknowledge. My friend Mr. Rogers has heard him, 
on two different occasions, declare that he had written every 
wor.d of the Stranger from beginning to end ; and, as his vanity 
could not be much interested in such a claim, it is possible that 
there was at least some virtual foundation for it. 

The song introduced in this play, " I have a silent sorrow 
here," was avowedly written by Sheridan, as the music of it was 
by the Duchess of Devonshire — two such names, so brilliant in 
their respective spheres, as the Muses of Song and Verse have 
seldom had the luck to bring together. The originality of these 
lines has been disputed ; and that expedient of borrowing which 
their author ought to have been independent of in every way, is 
supposed to have been resorted to by his indolence on this occa- 
sion. Some verses by Tickell are mentioned as having supplied 
one of the best stanzas ; but I am inclined to think, from the 
following circumstances, that this theft of Sheridan was of that 
venial and domestic kind — from himself. A writer, who brings 
forward the accusation in the Gentleman's Magazine, (vol. Ixxi. 
p. 904,) thus states his grounds : — 

" In a song which I purchased at Bland's music-shop in Holborn in the 



204 MEMOIKS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

year 1794, intitled, ' Think not, my love,' and professing to be set to music 
by Thomas Wright, (I conjecture, Organist of Newcastle-upon-Tyne, and 
composer of the pretty Opera called Rusticity,) are the following words :— 

The song to which the writer alludes, " Think not, my love,'^ 
was given to me, as a genuine production of Mr. Sheridan, by 
a gentleman nearly connected with his family ; and I have little 
doubt of its being one of those early love-strains which, in his 
tcynpo de' dolci sosinri^ he addressed to Miss Linley. As, there- 
fore, it was but " a feather of his own" that the eagle made free 
with, he may be forgiven. The following is the whole of the 
song : — 

" ' This treasured grief, this loved despair, 
My lot forever be ; 
But, dearest, may the pangs I bear 
Be never known to thee !' 

"Now, without insisting that the opening thought in Mr. Sheridan's 
famous song has been borrowed from that of ' Think not, my love,' the 
second verse is manifestly such a theft of the lines I have quoted as entirely 
overturns Mr. Sheridan's claim to originality in the matter, unless ' Think 
not, my love,' has been written by him, and he can be proved to have only 
stolen from himself." 

" Think not, my love, when secret grief 

Preys on my saddened heart, 
Think not I wish a mean relief, 
Or would from sorrow part. 

*' Dearly I prize the sighs sincere, 

That my true fondness prove, 
Nor would I wish to check the tear, 

That fiow^s from hapless love ! 

'* Alas ! tho' doom'd to hope in vain 
The joys that love requite. 
Yet will I cherish all its pain, 
With sad, but dear delight. 

** This treasur'd grief, this lov'd despair 
My lot for ever Ijc ; 
But, dearest, may the pangs I bear 
Be never known to thee I'' 



HTGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAIST. 20S 

Among the political events of this year, the rebellion of Ire- 
land holds a memorable and fearful pre-eminence. The only 
redecTTiing stipulation which the Duke of Portland and his broth- 
er Alarmists had annexed to their ill-judged Coalition with Mr. 
Pitt was, that a system of conciliation and justice should, at last, 
be adopted towards Ireland. Had they but carried thus much 
wisdom into the ministerial ranks with them, their defection might 
have been pardoned for the good it achieved, and, in one respect 
at least, would have resembled the policy of those Missionaries, 
who join in the ceremonies of the Heathen for the purpose of 
winning him over to the truth. On the contrary, however, the 
usual consequence of such coalitions with Power ensued, — the 
good was absorbed in the evil principle, and, by the false hope 
which it created, but increased the mischief Lord Fitzwilliam 
was not only deceived himself, but, still worse to a noble and 
benevolent nature like his, was made the instrument of deception 
and mockery to millions. His recall, in 1795, assisted by the 
measures of his successor, drove Ireland into the rebellion which 
raged during the present year, and of which the causes have been 
so little removed from that hour to this, that if the, people have 
become too wise to look back to it, as an example, it is assuredly 
not because their rulers have much profited by it as a lesson. 

I am aware that, on the subject of Ireland and her wrongs, I 
can ill trust myself vfith the task of expressing what I feel, or 
preserve that moderate^ historical tone, which it has been my 
wish to maintain through the political opinions of this work. On 
every other point, my homage to the high character of England, 
and of her institutions, is prompt and cordial ; — on this topic 
alone, my feelings towards her have been taught to wear " the 
badge of bitterness." As a citizen of the world, I would point 
to England as its brightest ornament, — but, as a disfranchised 
Irishman, I blush to belong to her. Instead, therefore, of hazard- 
ing any farther reflections of my own on the causes and character 
of the Rebellion of 1798, I shall content myself with giving an 
extract from a Speech which Mr. Sheridan delivered on the sub- 
ject, in the June of that year : — 



'106 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF tHE 

•' What ! when conciliatiDn was held out to the people of Ireland, was 
there any discontent ? AVhen the government of Ireland was agree? ble to 
the people, was there any discontent ? After the prospect of that concilia- 
tion was taken away, — after Lord Fitzwilliam was recalled, — after the 
liope« which had been raised were blasted, — when the spirit of the people 
was beaten down, insulted, despised, I will ask any gentleman to point out 
9 single act of conciliation which has emanated from the Government of 
Ireland? On the contrary ; has not that country exhibited one continual 
Bcene of the most grievous oppression, of the most vexatious proceedings ; 
arbitrary punishments inflicted ; torture declared necessary by the highest 
authority in the sister-kingdom next to that of the legislature ? And do 
gentlemen say that the indignant spirit which is roused by such exercise 
3f government is unprovoked ? Is this conciliation *? Is this lenity ? Has 
everything been done to avert the evils of rebellion ? It is the fashion to 
say, and the Address holds the same language, that the rebellion which 
now rages in the sister-kingdom has been owing +o the machinations of 
* wicked men.' Agreeing to the amendment proposed, it was my first in- 
tention to move that these words should be omitted. But, Sir, the fact 
they assert is true. It is, indeed, to the measures of wicked men that the 
deplorable state of Ireland is to be imputed. It is to those wicked Minis- 
ters who have broken the promises they held out, who betrayed the party 
they seduced into their views, to be the instruments of the foulest treache- 
ry that ever was practised against any people. It is to those wicked 
Ministers who have given up that devoted country to plunder, — resigned 
it a prey to this faction, by which it has so long been trampled upon, and 
abandoned it to every species of insult and oppression by which a country 
was ever overwhelmed, or the spirit of a people insulted, that we owe the 
miseries into which Ireland is plunged, and the dangers by which England 
is threatened. These evils are the doings of wicked Ministers, and applied 
to them, the language of the Address records a fatal and melancholy 
truth.'' 

The popularity which the condact of Mr. Sheridan, on the 
occasion of the Mutiny, had acquired for him, — everywhere but 
among his own immediate party, — seems to have produced a 
sort of thaw in the rigor of his opposition to Government ; and 
the language which he now began to hold, with respect to the 
power and principles of France, was such as procured for him, 
more than once in the course of the present Session, the unaccus- 
tomed tribute of compliments from the Treasury-bench. With- 
out, in the least degree, questioning his sincerity in this change 



h 



J^IGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN-. 20< 

of tone, it may be remarked, that the most watchful observer of 
the tide of public opinion could not have taken it at the turn 
more seasonably or skilfully. There was, indeed, just at this 
time a sensible change m the feeling of the country. The dan- 
gers to which it had been reduced were great, but the crisis seem- 
ed over. The new wings lent to Credit by the paper-currency, 
— the return of the navy to discipline and victory, — the disen- 
chantment that had taken place with respect to French principles, 
and the growing persuasion, since strengthened into conviction, 
that the world has never committed a more gross mistake than 
in looking to the French as teachers of liberty, — the insulting 
reception of the late pacific overtures at Lisle, and that never- 
failing appeal to the pride and spirit of Englishmen, which a 
threat of invading their sacred shore brings with itr, — all these 
causes concurred, at this moment, to rally the people of England 
round the Government, and enabled the Minister to extract from 
the very mischiefs which himself had created the spirit of all 
others most competent to bear and surmount them. Such is the 
elasticity of a free country, however, for the moment, misgovern- 
ed, — and the only glory due to the Minister under whom such a 
people, in spite of misgovernment, flourishes, is that of having 
proved, by the experiment, how difficult it is to ruin them. 

While Mr. Sheridan took these popular opportunities of occa- 
sionally appearing before the public, Mr. Fox persevered, with 
but little interruption, in his plan of secession from Parliament 
altogether. From the beginning of the Session of this year, 
when, at the instance of his constituents, he appeared in his place 
to oppose the Assessed Taxes Bill, till the month of February, 
1800, he raised his voice in the House but upon two questions, — 
each " dignus vindice," — the Abolition of the Slave-Trade, and a 
Change of System in Ireland. He had thrown into his opposition 
too much real feeling and earnestness to be able, like Sheridan, 
to soften it down, or shape it to the passing temper of the times. 
In the harbor of private life alone could that swell subside; and, 
however the country missed his warning eloquence, there is little 
doubt that his own mind and heart w^ere gainers by a retirement, 



208 MEMOIKS OF THE LIFE OF THfe 

« 

in which he had leisure to " prune the rufTled \dngs" of his bene 
volent spirit, — to exchange the ambition of being great for that 
of being useful, and to listen, in the stillness of retreat, to the 
lessons of a mild wisdom, of which, had his life been piolonged, 
his cou]] try would have felt the full influence. 

From one of Sheridan's speeches at this time we find that the 
change which had lately taken place in his public conduct had 
given rise to some unworthy imputations upon his motives. 
There are few things less politic in an eminent public man than 
a too great readiness to answer accusations against his character. 
For, as he is, in general, more extensively read or heard than his 
accusers, the first intimation, in most cases, that the public re- 
ceives of any charge against him will be from his own answer to 
it. Neither does the evil rest here ; — for the calumny remains 
embalmed in the defence, long after its own ephemeral life is 
gone. To this unlucky sort of sensitiveness Mr. Sheridan was 
but too much disposed to give way, and accordingly has been 
himself the chronicler of many charges against him, of which we 
should have been otherwise wholly ignorant. Of this nature were 
the imputations founded on his alleged misunderstanding with 
the Duke of Portland, in 1789, to which I have already made 
some allusion, and of which we should have known nothing but 
for his own notice of it. His vindication of himself, in 1795. from 
the suspicion of being actuated by self-interest, in his connection 
with the Prince, or of having received from him, (to use his own 
expressions,) " so much as the present of a horse or a picture," 
is another instance of the same kind, where he has given substance 
and perpetuity to rumor, and marked out the track of an obscure 
calumny, which would otherwise have been forgotten. At the 
period immediately under our consideration he has equally ena- 
bled us to collect, from his gratuitous defence of himself, that the 
line lately taken by him in Parliament, on the great questions of 
the Mutiny and Invasion, had given rise to suspicions of his poli- 
tical steadiness, and to rumors of his approaching separation from 
Mr. Fox. 
" I am sorry/' he said, on one occasion, " that it is hardly possible for 



MGHT HON. RICHAilD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 209 

any man to speak in this House, and to obtain credit for speaking from a 
principle of public spirit ; that no man can oppose a Minister without being 
accused of faction, and none, who usually opposed, can support a Minister, 
or lend him assistance in anything, without being accused of doing so from 
interested motives. I am not such a coxcomb as to say, that it is of much 
importance what part I may tak3 : or that it is essential that I should divide 
a little popularity, or some emolument, with the ministers of the Crown ; 
nor am I so vain as to imagine, that my services might be solicited. Cer- 
tainly they have not. That might have arisen from want of importance in 
myself, or from others, whom I have been in the general habit of opposing, 
conceiving that I was not likely either to give up my general sentiments, 
or my personal attachments. However that may be, certain it is, they 
never have made any attempt to apply to me for my assistance.'^ 

In reviewing his parliamentary exertions during this year, it 
would be injustice to pass over his speech on the Assessed Taxes 
Bill, in which, among other fine passages, the following vehement 
burst of eloquence occurs : 

" But we have gained, forsooth, several ships by the victory of the First 
of June, — by the capture of Toulon, — by the acquisition of those charnel- 
houses in the West Indies, in which 50.000 men have been lost to this 
country. Consider the price which has been paid for these successes. For 
these boasted successes. I will say, give me back the blood of Englishmen 
which has been shed in this fatal contest, — give me back the 250 millions 
of debt which it has occasioned, — give me back the honor of the country 
which has been tarnished,— give me back the credit of the country, which 
has been destroyed, — give me back the solidity of the Bank of England, 
which has been overthrown ; the attachment of the people to their ancient 
Constitution, which has been shaken by acts of oppression an«l tyrannical 
laws, — give me back the kingdom of Ireland, the connection of which is 
endangered by a cruel and outrageous system of military coercion.— give 
me back that pledge of eternal war, which must be attended with inevita- 
ble ruin !'' 

The great success which had attended The Stranger, and the 
still incTeasing taste for the German Drama, induced Mr. Sheri- 
dan, in the present year, to embark his fame even still more re^ 
sponsibly in a venture to the same roma^ntic shores. The p!ay 
of Pizarro was brought out on the 24th of May, J 799. The he- 
ro^.c interest of the plot, the splendor of the pageantry, and some 



2iO MEMOIRS OF THE LIFfe OF *HB 

skilful appeals to public feeling in the dialogue, obtained for it 
at once a popularity which has seldom been equalled. As far, 
indeed, as niultiplied representations and editions are a proof of 
success, the legitimate issue of his Muse might well have been 
jealous of the fame and fortune of their spurious German relative. 
When the author of the Critic made Puff say, ''Now for my 
magnificence, — my noise and my procession !" he little anticipated 
the illustration which, in twenty years afterw^ards, his own ex- 
ample w^ould afford to that ridicule. Not that in pageantry, when 
tastefully and subordinately introduced, there is any thing to 
which criticism can fairly object : — it is the dialogue of this play 
that is unworthy of its author, and ought never, from either mo- 
tives of profit or the vanity of success, to have been coupled with 
his name. The style in w^hich it is written belongs neither to 
verse nor prose, but is a sort of amphibious native of both, — nei- 
ther gliding gracefully through the former element, nor walking 
steadily on the other. In order to give pomp to the language, 
inversion is substituted for metre ; and one of the worst faults 
of poetry, a superfluity of epithet, is adopted, without that har- 
mony which alone iiakes it venial or tolerable. 

It is some relief, however, to discover, from the manuscripts 
in my possession, that Mr. Sheridan's responsibility for the defects 
of Pizarro is not very much greater than his claim to a share in 
its merits. In the plot, and the arrangement of the scenes, it is 
well knbw^n, there is but little alteration fi'om the German origi- 
nal. The omission of the comic scene of Diego, which Kotzebue 
himself intended to om^it, — the judicious suppression of Elvira's 
love for Alonzo, — the introduction, so striking in representation, 
of Holla's passage across the bridge, and the re-appearance of El- 
vira in the habit of a nun, form, I believe, the only important 
points in which the play of Mr. Sheridan deviates from the struc- 
ture of the original drama. With respect to the dialogue, his 
share in its composition is reducible to a compass not much more 
considerable. A few speeches, and a few short scenes, re-written, 
constitute almost the whole of the contribution he has furnished 
to it. The manuscript-translation, or rather imitation, of the 



HIGHT flOI^. mCHARD BRIKSLEY SfiERIBAK 211 

" Spaniards in Peru," which he used as the ground- work of Pi- 
zarro, has been preserved among liis papers : — and, so convenient 
was it to his indolence to take the style as he found it, that, ex- 
cept, as I have said, in a few speeches and scenes, which might be 
easily enumerated, he adopted, with scarcely any alteration, ths 
exact words of the translator, whose taste, therefore, (whoever hs 
may have been,) is answerable for the spirit and style of three- 
fourths of the dialogue. Even that scene where Cora describes 
the " white buds" and " crimson blossoms" of her infant's teeth, 
which I have often heard cited as a specimen of Sheridan's false 
ornament, is indebted to this unknown paraplirast for the whole 
of its embroidery. 

But though he is found to be innocent of much of the contra- 
band matter, with which his co-partner in this work had already 
vitiated it, his own contributions to the dialogue are not of a 
much higher or purer order. He seems to have written down 
to the model before him, and to have been inspired by nothing 
but an emulation of its faults. His style, accordingly, is kept 
hovering in the same sort of limbo, between blank verse and 
prose, — while his thoughts and images, however shining and 
effective on the stage, are like the diamonds of theatrical royalty, 
and will not bear inspection off it. The scene between Alonzo 
and Pizarro, in the third act, is one of those almost entirely re- 
written by Sheridan ; and the following medley groupe of per- 
sonifications affords a specimen of the style to which his taste 
could descend : — / 

" Then would I point out to him where now, in clustered villages, they 
live like brethren, social and confiding, while through the burning day 
Content sits basking on the cheek of Toil, till laughing Pastime leads them 
to the hour of rest." 

The celebrated harangue of Rolla to the Peruvians, into which 
Kemble used to infuse such heroic dignity, is an amplification of 
the following sentences of the original, as I find them given in 
Lewis's manuscript translation of the play : — 

" Rolla* You Spaniards fight for gold ; we for our country. 



2V2 MKMOTRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

'' Alonzc They follow an adventurer to the field ; we a monarcli whom 
we love. 
*' Atalio. And a god whom we adore !" 

This cipeedi, to whose popular sentiments the play owed much 
of its s^access, was chiefly made up by Sheridan of loans from 
his own oratory. The image of the Vulture and the Lamb was 
taken, as I have already remarked, from a passage in his speech 
on the trial of Hastings ; — and he had, on the subject of hiva- 
sion, in the preceding year, (1798.) delivered more tnan once 
the substance of those patriotic sentiments, which were now so 
spirit-stirring in the mouth of Rolla. For instance, on the King's 
Message relative to preparation for Invasion : — 

'' The Directory may instruct their guards to make the fairest profes- 
sions of how their army is to act ; but of these professions surely not one 
can be believed. The victorious Buonaparte may say that he comes like a 
minister of grace^ with no other purpose than to give peace to the cottager, 
to restore citizens to their rights, to establish real freedom, and a liberal 
and humane government. But can there be an Englishman so stupid, so 
besotted, so befooled, as to give a moment's credit to such ridiculous pro- 
fessions ?..... ^Vhat, then, is their object ? They come for what they 
really want : they come for ships, for commerce, for credit, ^d for capital. 
Yes ; they come for the sinews, the bones — for the marrow and the very 
heart's blood of Great Britain. But let us examine what we are to purchase 
at this price. Liberty, it appears, is now their staple commodity : but at- 
tend, I say, and examine how little of real liberty they themselves enjoy, 
who are sc forward and prodigal in bestowing it on others." 

The speech of Rolla in the prison-scene is also an interoolation 
of his own, — Kotzebue having, far more judiciously, (considering 
the unfitness of the moment for a tirade^ condensed the refleC' 
tions of Rolla into the short exclamation, " Oh, sacred Nature ! 
thou art still true to thyself," and then made him hurry into the 
prison to his friend. 

Of the translation of this play by Lewis, which has been found 
among the papers, Mr. Sheridan does not appear to have made 
any use ; — except in so fir as it may have suggested to him the 
idea of writing a song for Cora, of which that gentleman had set 
him an example in a ballad, beginning 



BIGHT HON. RICHAKD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 211 

^' Soft are thy s umbers, soft and sweet, 
Hush thee, hush thee, hush thee, boy." 

The song of Mr. Lewis, however, is introduced, with some- 
what less violence to probability, at the beginning of the Third 
Act, where the women are waiting for the tidings oi ti.e battle, 
and when the intrusion of a ballad from the heroine, though 
sufficiently unnatural, is not quite so monstrous as in the situa- 
tion which Sheridan has chosen for it. 

The following stanza formed a part of the song, as it was 
originally written : — 

** Those eyes that beam-d this morn the light of youth, 

This morn I saw their gentle rays impart 
The day-spring sweet of hope, of love, of truth. 

The pure Aurora of my lover's heart. 
Yet wilt thou rise, oh Sun, and waste thy light, 
While my Alonzo's beams are quench'd in night.'- 

The only question upon which he spoke this year was the im- 
portant measure of the Union, wliich he strenuously and at great 
length opposed. Like every other measure, professing to be for 
the benefit of Ireland, the Union has been left incomplete in the 
one essential point, without which there is no hope of peace or 
prosperity for that country. As long as religious disqualification 
is left to " lie like lees at the bottom of men's hearts,"* in vain 
doth the voice of Parliament pronounce the word " Union" to the 
two Islands — a feeling, deep as the sea that breaks between them, 
answers back, sullenly, " Separation." 

Through the remainder of Mr. Sheridan's political career it is 
my intention, for many reasons, to proceed with a more rapid 
step ; and merely to give the particulars of his public conduct, 
together with such documents as I can bring to illustrate it, w^ith- 
out entering into much discussion or comment on either. 

Of his speeches in 1800, — during which year, on account, per- 
haps, of the absence of Mr. Fox from the House, he w^as partrcu- 

* " It lay like lees at the bottom of men's hearts ; and, if the vessel was but stirred, 
il woula come up." — Baoox, Henry Vil. 



5il4 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

lariy industrious, — I shall select a few brief specimens for the 
reader. On the quertion of the Grant to the Emperor of Ger- 
many, he saic* : — • 

" I do think, Sir^ Jacobin principles never existed much in this country ; 
and even admitting they had, I say they have been found so hostile to true 
liberty, that, in proportion as we love it, (and, whatever may be said, I 
must still consider liberty an inestimable blessing,) we must hate and de- 
test these principles. But more, — I do not think they even exist in 
France. They have there died the best of deaths ; a death I am more 
pleased to see than if it had been effected by foreign force, — they have 
stung themselves to death, and died by their own poison." 

The following is a concise and just summary of the causes and 
effects of the French Kevolutionary war : — 

*' France, in the beginning of the Revolution, had conceived many ro- 
mantic notions ; she was to put an end to war, and produce, by a pure form 
of government, a perfectibility of mind which before had never been rea- 
lized. The Monarchs of Europe, seeing the prevalence of these new prin- 
ciples, trembled for their thrones. France, also, perceiving the hostility of 
Kings to her projects, supposed she could not be a Republic without the 
overthrow of thrones. Such has been the regular progress of cause and 
effect ; but who was the first aggressor, with whom the jealousy first arose, 
need not now be a matter of discussion. Both the Republic and the Mon- 
archs who opposed her acted on the same principles ; — the latter said they 
must exterminate Jacobins, and the former that they must destroy mon- 
archs. From this source have all the calamities of Europe flowed ; and it 
is now a waste of time and argument to inquire further into the subject.'^ 

Adverting, in his Speech on the Negotiation with France, to 
the overtures that had been made for a Maritime Truce, he 
says, with that national feeling, which rendered him at this time 
so popular, — 

*' No consideration for our ally, no hope of advantage to be derived from 
joint negotiation, should have induced the English Government to think 
for a moment of interrupting the course of our naval triumphs. — This mea 
sure, Sir, would have broken the heart of the navy, and would have damp- 
ed all its future exertions. How would our gallant sailors have felt, when, 
chained to their decks like galley-slaves, they saw the enemy's vessels sail- 
\ng ujider their bov/s in security, and proceeding, without a possibility of 



RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 215 

being molested, to re victual those places which had been so long blockaded 
Dy their astonishing skill, perseverance, and valor ? We never stood more 
in need of their services, and their feelings at no time deserved to be more 
studiously consulted. The north of Europe presents to England a most 
awful and threatening aspect. Without giving an opinion as to the origin 
of these hostile dispositions, or pronouncing decidedly whether they are 
wholly ill-founded, I hesitate not to say, that if they have been excited be- 
cause we have insisted upon enforcing the old established Maritime LaF 
of Europe, — because we stood boldly forth in defence of indisputable priv- 
ileges,— because we have refused to abandon the source of our prosperity, 
the pledge of our security, and the foundation of our naval greatness,— 
they ought to be disregarded or set at defiance. If we are threatened to 
be deprived of that which is the charter of our existence, which has pro- 
cured us the commerce of the world, and been the means of spreading our 
glory over every land, — if the rights and honors of our flag are to be call- 
ed in question, every risk should be run, and every danger braved. Then 
we should have a legitimate cause of war ; — then the heart of every Briton 
would burn with indignation, and his hand be stretched forth in defence of 
his country. If our flag is to be insulted, let us nail it to the top-mast of 
the nation ; there let it fly while we shed the last drop of our blood in 
protecting it, and let it be degraded only when the nation itself is over- 
whelmed." 

He thus ridicules, in the same speech, the etiquette that had 
been observed in the selection of the ministers who were to con- 
fer with M. Otto :— 

" This stifi'-necked policy shows insincerity. I see Mr. Napean and Mr. 
Hammond also appointed to confer with M. Otto, because they are of the 
same rank. Is not this as absurd as if Lord Whitworth were to be sent to 
Petersburgh, and told that he was not to treat but with some gentleman of 
six feet high, and as handsome as himself? Sir, I repeat, that this is a stiff- 
necked policy, when the lives of thousands are at stake." 

In the following year Mr. Pitt was succeeded, as Prime Mi- 
nister, by Mr. Addiiigton. The cause assigned for this unex- 
pected change was the difference of opinion that existed between 
the King and Mr. Pitt, with respect to the further enfranchise- 
ment of the Catholics of Ireland. To this measure the Minis- 
ter and some of his colleagues considered themselves to have 
been pledged by the4ct of Union; but, on finding that the^ 



216 MEMOIKS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

could not carry it, against the scruples of their Royal Master, 
resigned. 

Though Mr. Pitt so far availed himself of this alleged motive 
of his abdication as to found on it rather an indecorous appeal 
to the Catholics, in which he courted popularity for himself at 
the expense of that of the King, it was suspected that he had 
other and less disinterested reasons for his conduct. Indeed, 
while he took merit to himself for thus resigning his supremacyj 
he well knew that he still commanded it with " a falconer's voice," 
and, whenever he pleased, " could lure the tassel-gentle back 
again." The facility with which he afterwards returned to power, 
without making any stipulation for the measure now held to be 
essential, proves either that the motive now assigned for his 
resignation was false, or that, having sacrificed power to prin- 
ciple in 1801, he took revenge by making principle, in its turn, 
give way to power in 1804. 

During the early part of the new Administration, Mr. Sher- 
idan appears to have rested on his arms, — having spoken so 
rarely and briefly throughout the Session as not to have fur- 
nished to the collector of his speeches a single specimen of oratory 
worth recording. It is not till the discussion of the Definitive 
Treaty, in May, 1802, that he is represented as having professed 
himself friendly to the existing Ministry : — " Certainly," he said, 
" I have in several respects given my testimony in favor of the 
present Ministry, — in nothing more than for making the best 
peace, perhaps, they could, after their predecessors had left them 
in such a deplorable situation." It was on this occasion, how- 
ever, that, in ridiculing the understanding supposed to exist be- 
tween the Ex-minister and his successor, he left such marks of 
his wit on the latter as all his subsequent friendship could not 
efface. Among other remarks, full of humor, he said, — 

•' I shoal d like to support tlie present Minister on fair ground ; but what 
18 he ? a sort of outside passenger, — or rather a man leading the horses rounil 
a corner, while reins, whip, and all. are in the hands of the coachman on 
the lox ! Uooking at Mr. Pitth elevated t-.eat, three or fimrheriches above that 
of the I'reab^ry.) Why not have an union of the two Ministers, or^ at least, 



EIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 217 

some intelligible connection ? When the Ex-minister quitted office, almost 
all the subordinate Ministers kept their places. How was it that the whole 
family did not move together ? Had he only one covered waggon to carry 
friends and goods / oi has he left directions behind him that they may know 
where to call ? I remember a fable of Aristophanes' s, which is translated 
from Greek into decent English. I mention this for the country gentle- 
men. It is of a man that sat so long on a seat, (about as long, perhaps, as 
the Ex-minister did on the Treasury-bench,) that he grew to it. When 
Hercules pulled him off, he left all the sitting part of the man behind him. 
The House can make the allusion."* 

We have here an instance, in addition to the many which I 
have remarked, of his adroitness, not only in laying claim to all 
waifs of wit, " uhi non apparehat dominus^^'' but in stealing the 
wit himself, wherever he could find it. This happy application 
of the fable of Hercules and Theseus to the Ministry had been 
first made by Gilbert Wakefield, in a Letter to Mr. Fox, which 
the latter read to Sheridan a few days before the Debate ; and 
the only remark that Sheridan made, on hearing it, was, " What 
an odd pedantic fancy !" But the wit knew well the value of the 
jewel that the pedant had raked up, and lost no time in turning 
it to account with all his accustomed skill. The Letter of Wake- 
field, in which the application of the fable occurs, has been omit- 

* The following is another highly humorous passage from this speech : — '' But let 
France have colonies ! Oh, yes ! let her have a good trade, that she n)ay be afraid of 
war. says the Learned Member, — that's the way to make Buonaparte love peace. He 
has had, to be sure, a sort of military education. He has been abroad, and is rather 
rough compa/ny ; but if you put him behind the coimter a little, he will mend exceedingly. 
When I was reading the Treaty, I thought all the names of foreign places, viz. Pondi- 
cherry, Chandenagore, Cochin, Martinico, &c, all cessions. Not they, — they are all so 
many traps and hoUs to catch this silly fellow in, and make a merchant of him ! I really 
L ink the best way upon this principle would be this : — let the merchants of London open 
' injiblic subscripticn. and set him up at once. I hear a great deal respecting a certain 
:iatue about to be erected to the Right Honorable Gentleman, (Mr. Pitt.) now in my eye, 
at a great expense. Send all that money over to the I'irst Con.^ul, and give him, what 
you talk of so much. Capital, to begin trade with. I hope the Right Honorable Gentle- 
man over the way will, like the First Consul, refuse a statue for the present, and post- 
pone it as a work to posterity. There is no harm., however, in marking out the place. 
The Right Honorable Gentleman is musing, perhaps, on what square, or place, he will 
choose for its erection. I recommend the Bank of England. Now for the iraterial 
Not gold : no. no I — he has not left enough of it. I should, however, propose papier 
nache and old banknotes !" 

VOL, IJ, JQ 



218 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

ted, I know not why, in his published Correspondence with Mr. 
Fox : but a Letter of Mr. Fox, in the same collection, thus al- 
ludes to it :— " Your story of Theseus is excellent, as applicable 
to our present rulers ; if you could point out to me where 1 
could find it, I should be much obliged to you. The Scholiast 
on Aristophanes is too wide a description." Mr. Wakefield in 
answer, says, — " My Aristophanes, with the Scholia, is not here. 
If I am right in my recollection, the story probably occurs in the 
Scholia on the Frogs, and would soon be found by referencxi to 
the name of Theseus in Kuster's Index." 

Another instance of this propensity in Sheridan, (which made 
him a sort of Catiline in wit, " covetous of another's wealth, and 
profuse of his own,") occurred during the preceding Session. As 
he was walking down to the House with Sir Philip Francis and 
another friend, on the day when the Address of Thanks on the 
Peace was moved, Sir Philip Francis pithily remarked, that 
" it was a Peace which every one would be glad of, but no one 
would be proud of" Sheridan, who was in a hurry to get to the 
House, did not appear to attend to the observation ; — but, before 
he had been many minutes in his seat, he rose, and, in the course 
of a short speech, (evidently made for the purpose of passing his 
stolen coin as soon as possible,) said, " This, Sir, is a peace which 
every one wall be glad of, but no one can be proud of"* 

The following letter from Dr. Parr to Sheridan, this year, 
records an instance of delicate kindness which renders it well 
worthy of preservation : — 

" Dear Sir, 
" I believe that you and my old pupil Tom feel a lively inter- 
est in my happiness, and, therefore, I am eager to inform you 
that, without any solicitation, and in the most handsome man- 
ner, Sir Francis Burdett has offered me the rectory of Graffham 
in Huntingdonshire ; that the yearly value of it now amounts jO 

* A similar theft was his observation, that " half the Debt of England had been mcu. id 
in pulling- down the Bourbons, and the other half in sctiiriG: them iip" -'A/nicn DOin*> . .,e 
mark he had heard, in conversation, from Sir Arthur 3'^''.c:or . 



RIGHT HOK. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 219 

2OOZ.5 and is capable of considerable improvement ; that the 
preferment is tenable with my Northamptonsliire rectory ; that 
the situation is pleasant ; and that, by making it my place of 
residence, I shall be nearer to my respectable scholar and friend, 
Edward Maltby, to the University of Cambridge, and to those 
Norfolk comiections which I value most highly. 

" I am not much skilled in ecclesiastical negotiations ; and all 
my efforts to avail myself of the very obliging kindness condi- 
tionally intended for me by the Duke of Norfolk completely 
failed. But the noble friendship of Sir Francis Burdett has set 
everything right. I cannot refuse myself the great satisfaction 
of laying before you the concluding passage in Sir Francis's 
letter : — 

" ' I acknowledge that a great additional motive with me to 
the offer I now make Dr. Parr, is, that I believe I cannot do any 
thing more pleasing to his friends, Mr. Fox, Mr. Sheridan, and 
Mr. Knight; and I desire you, Sir, to consider yourself as oblig- 
ed to*them only.' 

" You will readily conceive, that I was highly gratified with 
this striking and important passage, and that I wish for an early 
opportunity of communicating with yourself, and Mr. Fox, and 
Mr. Knight. 

" I beg my best compliments to Mrs. Sheridan and Tom ; and 
I have the honor to be, Dear Sir, your very faithful well-wisher, 
and respectful, obedient servant, 

" September 2Y, Buckden, " S. Parr." 

" Sir Francis sent his own servant to my house at Hilton with 
the letter ; and my wife, on reading it, desired the servant to 
bring it to me at Buckden, near Huntingdon, where I yesterday 
received it." 

It was about this time that ':^e Pnmary Electors of the Na 
tional Institute of France having pioposed Haydn, the grea". 
composer, and Mr. Sheridan, as candidates for the class of Li- 
terature and the Fine Arts the Institute, with a choice not altr. 
gethei :Tde^ensibie. elected Hayd.., Seme French epigrams 



220 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

on this occurrence, which appeared in the Courier, seem to have 
suggested to Sheridan the idea of writing a few English jeux- 
(T esprit on the same subject, which were intended for the newspa- 
pers, but I rather think never appeared. These verses show that 
he was not a little piqued by the decision of the Institute ; and 
the manner in which he avails himself of his anonymous charac- 
ter to speak of his own claims to the distinction, is, it must be 
owned, less remarkable for modesty than for truth. But Vanity, 
thus in masquerade, may be allowed some little license. The 
following is a specimen : — 

" The wise decision all admire ; 
'Twas just, beyond dispute — 
Sound taste ! which, to Apollo's lyre 
PrefeiT'd — a German flute !" 

Mr. Kemble, who had been for some time Manager of Drury- 
Lane Theatre, was, in the course of the year 1800 — 1, tempted, 
notwithstanding the knowledge which his situation must have 
given him of the embarrassed state of the concern, to enter into 
negotiation with Sheridan for the purchase of a share in the pro- 
perty. How much anxiety the latter felt to secure such an 
associate in the establishment appears strongly from the following 
paper, drawn up by him, to accompany the documents submitted 
to Kemble during the negotiation, and containing some particu- 
lars of the property of Drury-Lane, which will be found not 
uninteresting : — 

''Outline of the Terms on which it is proposed that Mr. Kemble 
shall purchase a Quarter in the Property of Drury-Lane Thea- 
tre. 

" I rea'xly chink thera cannot be a negotiation, in matter of purchase and 
sale, so evidently fii the advantage of both parties, if brought to a satisfac- 
tory conclusion. 

•' I am decided that the management of the theatre cannot be respected, 
or successful, but in the hands of an actual proprietor : and still the better, 
if he is himself in the profession, and at the head of it I am desirous, 
tJierefore, that Mr. Kemble snould be a uroprietor and manager 



HIGHT HOIST. RICHARD BRtNSLEY SHERIDAN'. 221 

" Mr. Kemble is the person, of all others, who must naturally be desirous 
of both situations. He is at the head of his profession, without a rival ; he 
is attached to it, and desirous of elevating its character. He may be as- 
sured of proper respect, &c., while I have the theatre ; but I do not think 
he could brook his situation w^ere the property to pass into vulgar and il- 
liberal hands, — an eyent which he knows contingencies might produce. 
Laying aside then all affectation of indifference, so common in making bar- 
gains, let us set out with acknowledging that it is mutually our interest to 
agree, if we can. At the same time, let it be avowed, that I must be con- 
sidered as trying to get as good a price as I can, and Mr. Kemble to buy as 
cheap as he can. In parting with theatrical property, there is no standard, 
or measure, to direct the price : the whole question is, what are the proba- 
ble profits, and what is such a proportion of them worth ? 

•* I bought of Mr. Garrick at the rate of 70,000/. for the whole theatre. 
I bought of Mr. Lacey at the rate of 94,000/. ditto. I bought of Dr. Ford 
at the rate of 86,000/. ditto. In all these cases there was a perishable pa- 
tent, and an expiring lease, each having to run, at the different periods of 
the purchases, from ten to twenty years only. 

" All these purchases have undoubtedly answered well ; but in the chance 
of a Third Theatre consisted the risk ; and the want of size and accommo- 
dation must have produced it, had the theatres continued as they were. 
But the great and important feature in the present property, and which is 
never for a moment to be lost sight of, is, that the Monopoly is, morally 
speaking, established for ever, at least as well as the Monarchy, Constitu- 
tion, Public Funds, &c., — as appears by No. 1. being the copy of ' The Final 
Arrangement' signed by the Lord Chamberlain, by authority of His Majesty, 
the Prince of Wales, the Duke of Bedford, &c. ; and the dormant patent of 
Covent-Garden, that former terror of Drury-Lane, is perpetually annexed 
to the latter. So that the value of Drury-Lane at present, and in the for- 
mer sales, is out of all comparison, — independently of the new building, 
superior size, raised prices, &c., &c. But the incumbrances on the theatre, 
whose annual charge must be paid before there can be any surplus profit, 
are much greater than in Mr. Garrick 's time, or on the old theatre after- 
wards. Undoubtedly they are, and very considerably greater ; but what 
is the proportion of the receipts? Mr. Garrick realized and left a fortune 

of 140.000/. (having lived, certainly, at no mean expense,) acquired in 

years, on an average annual receipt of 25.000/. (qu. this ?) Our receipts 
cannot be stated at less than 60.000/. per ann. ; and it is demonstrable that 
preventing the most palpable frauds and abuses, with even a tolerable sys- 
tci'j of exertion in the management, must bring it. at the least, to 75,000/.; 
and this estimate does not include the advantages to be derived from the 
new tavern, passages, Chinese hall, &c., — an aid to the receipt, respecting 



222 MEMOIRS 0$^ THE LIFE OF THE 

the amount of which I am very sanguine. "What then, is the probable pro- 
fit, and what is a quarter of it worth ? No. 3. is the^ amount of three sea- 
sons' receipts, the only ones on v;hich an attempt at an average could be 
justifiable. No. 4. is the future estimate, on a system of exertion and good 
management. No. 5. the actual annual incumbrancea. No. 6. the nightly 
expenses. No. 7. the estimated profits. Calculating on which, I demand 
for a quarter of the property, * * * *^ reserving to myself the 
existing private boxes, but no more to be created, and the fruit-ofiSces and 
houses not part of the theatre. 

" I assume that Mr. Kemble and I agree as to the price, annexing the 
following conditions to our agreement : — Mr. Kemble shall have his engage- 
ment as an actor for any rational time he pleases. Mr. Kemble shall be 
manager, vrith a clear salary of 500 guineas per annum, and * * per cent, 
on the clear profits. Mr. Sheridan engages to procure from Messrs. Ham- 
mersleys a loan to Mr. Kemble of ten thousand pounds, part of the purchase- 
money for four years, for which loan he is content to become collateral se- 
curity, and also to leave his other securities, now in their hands, in mort- 
gage for the same. And for the payment of the rest of the money, Mr. 
Sheridan is ready to give Mr. Kemble every facility his circumstances will 
admit of. It is not to be overlooked, that if a private box is also made 
over to Mr. Kemble^ for the whole term of the theatre lease, its value can- 
not be stated at less than 3.500/. Indeed, it might at any time produce to 
Mr. Kemble, or his assigns, 300/. per annum. Vide No. 8. This is a mate- 
rial deduction from the purchase-money to be paid. 

'* Supposing all this arrangement made, I conceive Mr. Kemble's income 
would stand thus : 

£ «. d. 
Salary as an actor, - - - -105 000 
In lieu of benefit, - - - - 315 

As manager, 525 00 

Per centage on clear profit, - - - 300 
Dividend on quarter-share, - - *2500 



£4690 



" I need not say how soon this would clear the whole of the purchase. 
With regard to the title, &c. Mr. Crews and Mr. Pigott are to decide. As 
to debts, the share must be made over to Mr. Kemble free from a claim 
even ; and for this purpose all demands shall l>e called in, by public adver- 

♦ " I put this on the very lowest speculation.** 



MGHT HON. RiCJiARD ImiNSLEY SliERlDAN. 228 

tisemeut, to be sent to Mr. Kcmblc'g own solicitor. In sliort, Mr. Crews 
shall be aalisfied that there does not exist an unsatisfied demand on the 
the aire, or a possibility of Mr. Kemblo being involved in the risk of a shil- 
ling. Mr. Hammersley, or such person as Mr. Kemble and Mr. Sheridan 
shall agree on, to be Treasurer, and receive and account for the whole re- 
ceipts, pay the charges, trusts, &c. ; and, at the close of the season, the sur- 
plus profits to the proprietors. A clause in case of death, or sale, to give 
the refusal to each other.'^ 

The following letter from Sheridan to Kemble, in answer, as 
it appears, to some complaint or remonstrance from the latter, 
in his capacity of Manager, is too curiously characteristic of the 
writer to be omitted : — 

" Dear Kemble, 

" If I had not a real good opinion of ^^our principles and in- 
tentions upon all subjects, and a very bad opinion of your nerves 
and philosophy upon some, I should take very ill indeed, the 
letter I received from you this evening. 

" That the management of the theatre is a situation capable of 
becoming troublesome is information which I do not want, and a 
discovery which 1 thought you had made long since. 

" I should be sorry to write to you gravely on your offer, be- 
cause I must consider it as a nervous flisiht. which it would be as 
unfriendly in me to notice seriously as it would be in you 
seriously to have made it. 

" What I am most serious in is a determination that, while 
the theatre is indebted, and others, for it and for me, are so in- 
volved and pressed as they are, I will exert myself, and give 
every attention and judgment in my power to the establishment 
of its interests. In you I hoped, and do hope, to find an assistant, 
on principles of liberal and friendly confidence, — I mean confi- 
dence that should be above touchiness and reserve, and that 
should trust to me to estimate the value of that assistance. 

" If there is any thing amiss in your mind, not arising from the 
trouhlesomeness ol your situation, it is childish and unmanly not 
to disclose it to me. The frankness with which I have always 



224 MEMOIRS' OF THE LIFE OF THE 

dealt towards you entitles me to expect that you should have 
done so. 

" But I have no reason to believe this to be the case ; and, at- 
tributing your letter to a disorder which I know ought not to be 
indulged, I prescribe that you shall keep your appointment at the 
Piazza Coffee-house, to-morrow at five, and, taking four bottles 
of claret instead of three, to which in sound health you might 
stint yourself, forget that you ever wrote the letter, as I shall 
that I ever received it. 

" R. B. Sheridan." 



iilGHT HON. KICHAKD BRIKSLEY SHERIDAN. 226 



CHAPTEE [X. 

SI ATE OF PARTIES. — OFFER OF A PLACE TO MR. T. 
SHERIDAN. — RECEIVERSHIP OF THE DUCHY OF CORN- 
WALL BESTOWED UPON MR SHERIDAN. — RETURN OF 
MR, PITT TO POWER. — 0J.TdOi.IC QUESTION. — ADMINIS- 
TRATION OF LORD GEENVILLE AND MR. FOX. — DEATH 
OF MR, FOX. — REPRESENTATION OF WESTMINSTER. — 
DISMISSION OF THE MINISTRY. — THEATRICAL NEGOTIA- 
TION.—SPANXSH QUESTION. — LETTER TO THE PRINCE. 

During the short interval of peace into which the country was 
now lulled, — like a ship becalmed for a moment in the valley 
between two vast waves, — such a change took place in the 
relative positions and bearings of the parties that had been so 
long arrayed against each other, and such new boundaries and 
divisions of opinion were formed, as considerably altered the map 
of the political world. While Mr. Pitt lent his sanction to the 
new Administration, they, who had made common cause with him 
in resigning, violently opposed it ; and, while the Ministers were 
thus thwarted by those who had hitherto alw\ays agreed with them, 
they were supported by those Whigs with whom they had before 
most vehemently dilTered. Among this latter class of their friends 
was, as I have already remarked, Mr. Sheridan, — who, convinced 
that the only chance of excluding Mr. Pitt from power lay in 
strengthening the hands of those who were in possession, not only 
gave them the aid of his own name and eloquence, but endea- 
vored'to impress the same views upon Mr. Fox, and exerted 
his influence also to procure the sanction of Carlton-Iiouse in 
their favor. 

VOL. IT. 10* 



226 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THfe 

It cannot, indeed, be doubted that Sheridan, at this tinie, 
though still the friend of Mr. Fox, had ceased, in a great degi'ec, 
to be his follower. Their views with respect to the renewal of 
the war were wholly different. While Sheridan joined in the 
popular feeling against France, and showed his knowledge of 
that great instrument, the Public Mind, by approaching it onlv 
with such themes as suited the martial mood to which it was 
tuned, the too confiding spirit of Fox breathed nothing but for- 
bearance and peace ; — and he who, in 1786, had proclaimed the 
" natural enmity " of England and France, as an argument against 
their commercial intercourse, now asked, with the softened tone 
which time and retirement had taught him, " whether France 
was /or ever to be considered our rival?"* 

The following characteristic note, written by him previously 
to the debate on the Army Estimates, (December 8, 1802,) 
shows a consciousness that the hold which he had once had upon 
his friend was loosened : — 

"Dear Sheridan, 
" I mean to be in town for Monday, — that is, for the Army. 
As for to-morrow, it is no matter ; — I am for a largish fleet, 
though perhaps not quite so large as they mean. Pray, do not 
be absent Monday, and let me have a quarter of an hour's con- 
versation before the business begins. Remember, I do not wish 
you to be inconsistent, at any rate. Pitt's opinion by Proxy is 
ridiculous beyond conception, and I hope you will show it in that 
light. I am very much against your abusing Bonaparte, because 
I am sure it is impolitic both for the country and ourselves. But, 
as you please ; — only, for God's sake, Peace.f 

" Yours ever 
" Tuesday night. " C. J. Fox." 

It was about this period that the writer of these pages had, 

* Speech on the Address of Thanks in 1803. 

t These last words are an interesting illustration of the line in Mr. Rogers's Verses on 
this statesman : — 

" ' Peace,' when he spoke, was ever on his tongne.*' 



HIGHT HON. KICHAill) BElNSLEY SHERIOAN. 227 

for the first time, the gratification of meeting Mr. Sheridan, at 
Donington-Park, the seat of the present Marquis of Hastings ; 
— a circumstance which he recalls, not only with those lively im- 
pressions, that our first admiration of genius leaves behind, but 
with many other dreams of youth and hope, that still endear to 
him the mansion where that meeting took place, and among 
which gratitude to its noble owner is the only one, perhaps, that 
has not faded. Mr. Sheridan, I remember, w^as just then furnish- 
ing a new house, and talked of a plan he had of levying cor.trl. 
butions on his friends for a library. A set of books from each 
would, he calculated, amply accomplish it, and already the inti- 
mation of his design had begun to " breathe a soul into the silent 
walls."* The splendid and well-chosen library of Donington 
was, of course, not slow in furnishing its contingent ; and little 
was it foreseen into what badges of penury these gifts of friend- 
ship would be converted at last. 

As some acknowledgment of the services which Sheridan had 
rendered to the Ministry, (though professedly as a tribute to his 
public character in general,) Lord St. Vincent, about this time, 
made an offer to his son, Mr. Thomas Sheridan, of the place of 
Eegistrar of the Vice- Admiralty Court of Malta* — an office which, 
during a period of war, is supposed to be of considerable emol- 
ument. The first impulse of Sheridan, vrhen consulted on the 
proposal, was, as I have heard, not unfavorable to his son's accept- 
ance of it. But, on considering the new position which he had, 
himself, lately taken in politics, and the inference that might be 
drawm against the independence of his motives, if he submitted 
to an obligation which was but too liable to be interpreted, as less 
a return for past services than a lien upon him for future ones, 
he thought it safest for his character to sacrifice the advantage, 
and, desirable as was the provision for his son, obliged him to 
decline it. 

The follo\^dng passages of a letter to him from Mrs. Sheridan 
on this subject do the highest honor to her generosity, spirit, and 
good sense. They also confirm what has generally been under- 
stood, that the King, about this time, sent a most gracious mes- 

* Rogers 



228 MEMOtKS OF THE LIFE OF TH2 

saj.3 to Sheridan, expressive of the approbation with which he 
regarded his public conduct, and of the pleasuie he should feel 
in conferimg upon him some mark of his Royal favor: — 

" I am more anxious than I can express about Tom's welfare. 
It is, indeed, unfortunate that you have been obliged to refuse 
these things for him, but surely there could not be two opinions ; 
yet why will you neglect to observe those attentions that honor 
does not compel you to refuse ? Don't you know that when once 
the King takes offence, he was never known to forgive ? I sup- 
p033 it would be impossible to have your motives explained to 
him, because it would touch his weak side, yet any thing is better 
than his attributing your refusal to contempt and indiiference. 
Would to God I could bear these necessary losses instead of Tom, 
particularly as I so entirely approve of your conduct. 

" I trust you will be able to do something positive for Tom 
about money. I am willing to make any sacrifice in the world 
for that purpose, and to live in any way whatever. Wliatever 
he has now ought to be certain, or how will he know how to re- 
gulate his expenses ?" 

The fate, indeed, of young Sheridan was peculiarly tantalizing. 
Born and brought up in the midst of those bright hopes, which 
so long encircled his father's path, he saw them all die away as 
he became old enough to profit "By them, leaving difficulty and 
disappointment, his only inheritance, behind. Unprovided with 
any profei^sion by which he could secure his own independence, 
and shut out, as in this instance, from those means of advance- 
ment, which, it was feared, might compromise the independence 
of his father, he was made the victim even of the distinction of 
his situation, and paid dearly for the glory of being the son of 
Sheridan. In the expression of his face, he resembled much his 
beautiful mother, and derived from her also the fatal complaint 
of which he died. His popularity in society was unexampled, — 
but he knew how to attach as well as amuse ; and, though 
living chiefly with that class of persons, who pass over the sur- 



BIGHT HON. RICHARD BKINSLEY SHERIDAN. 229 

faoe of life, like Camilla over the corn, without leavitig any im- 
pression of themselves behind, he had manly and intelligent 
qualities, that deserved a far better destiny. There are, indeed, 
few individuals, whose lives have been so gay and thoughtless, 
whom so many remember w^th cordiality and interest : and, 
among the numerous instances of discriminating good nature, by 
which the private conduct of His Eoyal Highness the Duke of 
York is distinguished, there are none that do him more honor 
than his prompt and efficient kindness to the interestmg family 
that the son of Sheridan has left beliind him. 

Soon after the Declaration of War against France, when an 
immediate invasion w^as threatened by the enemy, the Heir Ap- 
parent, with the true spirit of an English Prince, came forward 
to make an offer, of his personal service to the country. A cor- 
respondence upon the subject, it is well known, ensued, in the 
course of which His Royal Highness addressed letters to Mr. 
Addington, to the Duke of York, and the King. It has been 
sometimes stated that these letters were from the pen of Mr. 
Sheridan : but the first of the series w^as written bv Sir Robert 
Wilson, and the remainder by Lord Hutchinson. 

The death of Joseph Richardson, which took place this year, 
w^as felt as strongly by Sheridan as any thing can be felt, by those 
who, in the w^hirl of worldly pursuits, revolve too rapidly round 
Self, to let any thing rest long upon their surface. With a fidelity 
to his old habits of unpunctuality, at which the shade of Richardson 
might have smiled, he arrived too late at Bagshot for the funeral 
of his friend, but succeeded in persuading the good-natured cler- 
gyman to perform the ceremony over again. Mr. John Taylor, 
a gentleman, whose love of good-fellowship and wit has made him 
the welcome associate of some of the brightest men of his day, 
was one of the assistants at this singular scene, and also joined 
in the party at the inn at Bedfont afterwards, where Sheridan, it 
is said, drained the " Cup of Memory" to his friend, till he found 
oblivion at the bottom. 

At the close of the session of 1803, that strange diversity of 
opinions, into w^hich the two leading parties were decomposed by 



230 MEMOIES OF THE LIFE OF THE 

the resignation of Mr. Pitt, had given way to new varieties, both 
of cohesion and separation, quite as little to be expected from the 
natural affinities of the ingredients concerned in them. Mr. Pitt, 
upon perceiving, in those to whom he had delegated his power, 
an mclination to surround themselves with such strength from 
the adverse ranks as would enable. them to contest his resumption 
of the trust, had gradually withdrawn the sanction which he at 
first afforded them, and taken his station by the side of the other 
two parties in opposition, without, however, encumbering himself, 
in his views upon office, with either. By a similar movement, 
though upon different principles, Mr. Fox and the Whigs, who 
had begun by supporting the Ministry against the strong War- 
party of which Lord Grenville and Mr. Windham were the lead- 
ers, now entered into close co-operation with this new Opposition, 
and seemed inclined to forget both recent and ancient differences 
in a combined assault upon the tottering Admiaistration of Mr. 
Addington. 

The only parties, perhaps, that acted with consistency through 
these transactions, were Mr. Sheridan and the few who followed 
him on one side, and Lord Gremdlle and his friends on the other. 
The support which the former had given to the Ministry, — from 
a conviction that such was the true policy of his party, — he perse- 
vered in, notwithstanding the suspicion it drew down upon him, to 
the last; and, to the last, deprecated the connection with the 
Grenvilles, as entangling his friends in the same sort of hollow 
partnership, out of which they had come bankrupts in character 
and confidence before.* In like mamier, it must be owmed the 
Opposition, of which Lord Grenville was the head, held a course 
direct and undeviating from beginning to end. Unfettered by 
those reservations in favor of Addington, which so long embar- 



* In a letter written this year by Mr. Tliomas Sheridan to his father, there is the fol- 
lowing passage : — 

" I am glad you intend writing to Lord ; he is quite right about politics, — reprobates 

the idea rriosl strongly of any union with the Grenvilles, &c. which, he says, he sees is 
Fox's leaning. ' I agreed with your father pfrfectly on the subject, when I left him in 
town ; but when I saw Charles at St. Ann's Hill, I perceived he was wrong and obsti- 
nats.' " 



HIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHER1DA:N'. 2Si 

rassed the movements of their former leader, they at once started 
in opposition to the Peace anr. the Ministry, and, with not only 
Mr. Pitt and Mr. Fox, but the whole people of England against 
them, persevered till they had ranged all these several parties 
on their side : — nor was it altogether without reason that this 
party afterwards boasted that, if any abandonment of principle 
had occurred in the connection between them and the Whigs, the 
surrender was assuredly not from their side. 

Early in the year 1804, on the death of Lord Elliot, the office 
of Receiver of the Duchy of CornwaH, which had been held by 
that nobleman, was bestowed by the Prince of Wales upon Mr. 
Sheridan, " as a trifling proof of that sincere friendship His Roya^. 
Highness had always professed and felt for him through a long 
series of years." His Royal Highness also added, in the same 
communication, the very cordial words, " I wish to God it was 
better worth your acceptance." 

The following letter from Sheridan to Mr. Addington, com- 
municating the intelligence of this appointment, shows pretty 
plainly the terms on which he not only -now stood, but was well 
inclined to continue, with that Minister : — 

"Dear Sir, George- Street^ Tuesday evening, 

" Convinced as I am of the sincerity of your good will towards 
me, I do not regard it as an impertinent intrusion to inform you 
that the Prince has, in the most gracious manner, and wholly 
unsolicited, been pleased to appoint me to the late Lord Elliot's 
situation in the Duchy of Cornwall. I feel a desire to communi- 
cate this to you myself, because I feel a confidence that you will 
be glad of it. It has been my pride and pleasure to have exerted 
m.y humble efforts to serve the Prince without ever accepting the 
slightest obligation from him ; but, in the present case, and under 
the present circumstances, I think it would have been really false 
pride and apparently mischievous affectation to have declined this 
mark of His Royal Highness's confidence and favor. I will not 
disguise that, at this peculiar crisis, I am greatly gratiiied at this 
fivent. Had it been the result of a mean and subservient devo- 



232 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

tioii to the Prince's every wish and object, I coulJ neither havb 
respected the gift, the giver, nor myself; but when I consider how 
recently it was my misfortune to rind myself compeHed by a 
sense of duty, stronger than my attachment to him, wholly to 
risk the situation I held in his confidence and favor, and that upon 
a subject* on which his feelings were so eager and irritable. I 
cannot but regard the increased attention, with which he has since 
honored me, as a most gratifying demonstration that he has clear- 
ness of judgment and firmness of spirit to distinguish the real 
friends to his true glory and interests from the mean and mer- 
cenary sycophants, who fear and abhor that such friends should 
be near him. It is satisfactory to me, also, that this appointment 
gives me the title and opportunity of seeing the Prince, on trying 
occasions, openly and in the face of day, and puts aside the mask of 
mystery and conceal nient. I trust I need not add, that whatever 
small portion of fair influence I may at any time possess with the 
Prince, it shall be uniformly exerted to promote those feelings 
of duty and affection towards their Majesties, which, though seem 
ingly interrupted by adverse circumstances, I am sure are in his 
heart warm and unalterable — and, as far as I may presume, that 
general concord throughout his illustrious family, whi<^ must be 
looked to by every honest subject, as an essential part of the 
public strength at this momentous period. I have the honor to 
be, with great respect and esteem, 

" Your obedient Servant, 
" Right Hon. Henry Addington. " R. B. Sheridan." 

The same view^s that influenced Mr. Sheridan, Lord Moira, 
and others, in supporting an administration which, w^ith all its 
defects, they considered preferable to a relapse into the hands of 
Mr. Pitt, had led Mr. Tierney, at the close of the last Session, 
to confer upon it a still more efficient sanction, by enrolling him- 
self in its ranks as Treasurer of the Navy. In the early part of 

* The ofTor made by the Prinee of his personal services in 1803, — on which occasion 
Sheridan coincided with the views of Mr. Addington somewhat more than was agree- 
able to His Royal Higimess. 



EIGHT HON. KICHAKD BKINSLEY SHERIDAN. 283 

the present year, anctlier ornament of the Whig party, Mr. 
Erskine, was on the point of following ui the same footsteps, by 
accepting, from Mr. Addington, tlie office of Attorney-General. 
He had, indeed, proceeded so far in his intention as to submit 
the overtures of the Minister to the consideration of the Prince, 
in a letter which was transmitted to his Royal Highness by 
Sheridan. The answer of the Prince, conveyed also through 
Sheridan, while it expressed the most friendly feelings towards 
Erskine, declined, at the same time, giving any opinion as to 
either his acceptance or refusal of the office of Attorney-General, 
if offered to him under the present circumstances. His Royal 
Highness also added the expression of his sincere regret, that a 
proposal of this nature should have been submitted to his con- 
sideration bv one, of whose attachment and iidelitv to himself 
he was well convinced, but who ought to have felt, from the line 
of conduct adopted and persevered in by his Royal Highness, 
that he was the very last person that should have been applied 
to for either his opinion or countenance respecting the political 
conduct or connection of any public character, — especially of one 
so intimately connected with liim, and belonging to his family. 

If, at any time, Sheridan had entertained the idea of associating 
himself, by office, with the Ministry of Mr. jiddington, (and pro- 
posals to this effect were, it is certain, made to him,) his knowl- 
edge of the existence of such feelings as prompted this answer to 
Mr. Erskine w^ould, of course, have been sufficient to divert him 
from the intention. 

The following document, which I have found, in his own hand- 
writing, and which was intended, apparently, for publication in 
the newspapers, contains some particulars with respect to the 
proceedings of his party at this time, which, coming from such 
a source, may be considered as authentic : — 

" State of Parties. 

" Among the various rumors of Coalitions, or attempted Co- 
&r,cions, we have already expressed our disbelief in that reported 
tc lave taken place between the Grenville-Windhamites and Mr. 



234 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

Fox. At least, if it was ever in negotiation, we have reason to 
think it received an early check, arising from a strong party of 
the Old Opposition protesting against it. The account of this 
transaction, as whispered in the poiitlcal circles, is as follows : — 

"In consequence of some of the most respectable members of 
the Old Opposition being sounded on the subject, a meeting was 
held at Norfolk-House ; when it w^as determined, with very few 
dissentient voices, to present a friendly remonstrance on the sub- 
ject to Mr. Fox, stating the manifold reasons which obviously 
presented themselves against such a procedure, both as affecting 
Character and Party. It was urged that the present Ministers 
had, on the score of innovation on the Constitution, given the 
Whigs no pretence for complaint whatever; and, as to their 
alleged incapacity, it remained to be proved that they were 
capable of committing errors and producing miscarriages, equal 
to those w^hich had marked the councils of their predecessors, 
whom the measure in question was expressly calculated to re- 
place in power. At such a momentous crisis, therefore, waving 
all considerations of past political provocation, to attempt, by 
the strength and combination of party, to expel the Ministers of 
His Majesty's choice, and to force into his closet those whom the 
Whigs ought to be the first to rejoice that he had excluded from 
it, was stated to be a proceeding which would assuredly revolt 
the public feeling, degrade the character of Parliament, and pro- 
duce possibly incalculable m.ischief to the country. 

" We understand that Mr. Fox's reply was, that he would 
never take any political step against the wishes and advice of the 
majority of his old friends. 

" The paper is said to have been drawn up by Mr. Erskine, 
and to have been presented to Mr. Fox by his Grace of Norfolk, 
on the day His Majesty was pronounced to be recovered from 
his first illness. Rumor places among the supporters of this 
measure the written authority of the Duke of Northumberland 
and the Earl of Moira, with the signatures of Messrs. Erskine, 
Sheiidan, Shum. Curwen, Western, Brogden, and a long et ccetera. 
It is said also that the Prince's sanction had been previously 



RiaHT HOK RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 286 

given to the Duke, — His Royal Highness deprecating all party- 
struggle, at a moment when the defence of all that is dear to 
Britons ought to be the single sentiment that should fill the pub- 
lic mind. 

^ '' We do not vouch for the above being strictly accurate ; but 
we are confident that it is not far from the truth.'* , 

The illness of the King, referred to in this paper, had been 
first publicly announced in the month of February, and was for 
some time considered of so serious a nature, that arrangements 
were actually in progress for the establishment of a Regency. 
Mr. Sheridan, who now formed a sort of connecting link between 
Carlton-House and the Minister, took, of course, a leading part 
in the negotiations preparatory to such a measure. It appears, 
from a letter of Mr. Fox on the subject, that the Prince and 
another person, whom it is unnecessary to name, were at one mo- 
ment not a little alarmed by a rumor of an intention to associ- 
ate the Duke of York and the Queen in the Regency. Mr. 
Fox, however, begs of Sheridan to tranquillize their minds on 
this point : — the intentions, (he adds,) of " the Doctor,"* though 
bad enough in all reason, do not go to such lengths ; and a 
proposal of this nature, from any other quarter, could be easily 
defeated. 

Within about two months from the date of the Remonstrance, 
which, according to a statement already given, was presented to 
Mr. Fox by his brother Whigs, one of the consequences which it 
prognosticated from the connection of their party with the Gren- 
villes took place, in the resignation of Mr. Addington and the 
return of Mr. Pitt to power. 

The confidence of Mr. Pitt, in thus taking upon himself, almost 

* To the infliction of this nickname on his friend. Mr. Addington, Sheridan was, in no 
Bmall degree, accessory, by applying to those who disapproved of his administration, 
jind yet gave no reasons for their disapprobation, the well-known lines, — 
"I do not love Lhee. Doctor Fell, 
And why I cannot tell • 
But this I know full well, 
I do not love lhee. Doctor Fell." 



236 MEMOIPS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

single-handed, the government of the country at suc'i an awful 
crisis, was, he soon perceived, not shared by the public. A ge- 
neral expectation had prevailed that the three great Parties, 
which had late^ been encamped together on the field of opposi 
tion, would have each sent its Chiefs into the public councils, and 
thus formed such a Congress of power and talent as the difficul 
ties ' of the empire, in that trying moment, demanded. This 
hope had been frustrated by the repugnance of the King to Mr. 
Fox, and the too ready flicility with which Mr. Pitt had given 
way to it. Not only, indeed, in his undignified eagerness for of- 
fice, did he sacrifice without stipulation the important question, 
which, but two years before, had been made the sine-qua-non of 
his services, but, in } ielding so readily to the Royal prejudices 
against his rival, he gave a sanction to that unconstitutional prin- 
ciple of exclusion,* which, if thus acted upon by the party-feelings 
of the Monarch, would soon narrow the Throne into the mere 
nucleus of a favored faction. In allowing, too, his friends and 
partisans to throw the whole blame of this exclusive Ministry on 
the King, he but repeated the indecorum of which he had been 
guilty in 1802. For, having at that time made use of the reli- 
gious prejudices of the Monarch, as a pretext for his manner of 
quitting office, he now employed the political prejudices of the 
same personage, as an equally convenient excuse for his manner 
of returning to it. 

A few extracts from the speech of Mr. Sheridan upon the Ad- 
ditional Force Bill, — the only occasion on which he seems to have 
spoken during the present year, — will show that the rarity of his 
displays w^as not owing to any fiiilure of power, but rather, per- 

* " This principle of personal exclusion, -'said Loja Grc.iville.) is one of which I never 
can approve, because, independently of its operation to prevent Parliament and the peo- 
ple froni enjoying the Administration they desired, and which it was their particular in- 
leresi to have. A tends to establish a dannrerous precedent, that would aiTcrd too much 
opporiunily of private pique ao:ainst the public mtere.t. I, for one. therefore, refused to 
conned myself with any one argument that sh mid sanction that principle ; and, :n my 
opinion, every man who accepted office under that Ami-istration is, according to .tie let- 
ter and spirit of the constitution, responsible for its character and construction, and the 
principle upon which it is founded." — Speech of Lord Grenirille on the motion, of Lord 
Darnleyfor the repeal of the, Additumal Force Bill, Ftb. 15, 1806. 



tlTGHT HON. RICHARD BRINShEY SHERIDAN. 23? 

haps, to the increasing involvement of his circumstances, which 
left no time for the thought and pr^eparation that all his public 
efforts required. 

Mr. Pitt had, at the commencement of this year, condescended 
to call to his aid the co-operation of Mr. Addington, Lord Buck- 
inghamshire, and other members of that Administration, which 
had withered away, but a few months before, under the blight 
of his sarcasm and scorn. In alluding to this Coalition, Sheridan 
says,— 

^' The Right Honorable Gentleman went into office alone ; — but, lest the 
government should become too full of vigor from his support, he thought 
proper to beckon back some of the weakness of the former administration. 
He. I suppose, thought that the Ministry became, from his support, like 
spirits above proof, and required to be diluted ; that, like gold refined to a 
certain degree, it would be unfit for use without a certain mixture of alloy ; 
that the administration would be too brilliant, and dazzle the House, unless 
he called back a certain part of the mist and fog of the last administration 
to render it tolerable to the eye. As to the great change made in the Mi- 
nistry by the introduction of the Right Honorable Gentleman himself, I 
Tould ask, does he imagine that he came back to office with the same esti- 
mation that he left it? I am sure he is much mistaken if he fancies that he 
did. The Right Honorable Gentleman retired from office because, as was 
stated, he could not carry an important question, which he deemed neces- 
sary to satisfy the just claims of the Catholics ; and in going out he did not 
hesitate to tear off the sacred veil o^ Majesty, describing his Sovereign as 
the only person that stood in the way of this desirable object. After the 
Right Honorable Gentleman's retirement, he advised the Catholics to look 
to no one but him for the attainment of their rights, and cautiously to ab- 
stain from forming a connection with any other person. But how does it 
appear, now that the Right Honorable Gentleman is returned to office ? 
He declines to perform his promise ; and has received, as his colleagues in 
office, those who are pledged to resist the measure. Does not the Right 
Honorable Gentleman then feel that he comes back to office with a cha- 
racter degraded by the violation of a solemn pledge, given to a great and 
respectable body of the people, upon a particular and momentous occasion ? 
Does the Right Honorable Gentleman imagine either that he returns to 
office with the same character for political wisdom, after the description 
which he gave of the talents and capacity of his predecessors, and after 
having shown, by his own actions,, that his description was totally uu- 
founded ?" 



238 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

In alluding to Lord Melville's appointment to the Admiralty, 
he says, — 

'• But then, I am told, there is the First Lord of the Admiralty, — ' Do 
you forget the leader of the grand Catamaran project ? Are you not 
aware of the important change in that department, and the adyantage the 
country is likely to derive fi'om that change V Why, I answer, that I do 
not know of any peculiar qualifications the Noble Lord has to preside over 
the Admiralty ; but I do know, that if I were to judge of him from the 
kind of capacity he evinced while Minister of War, I should entertain little 
hopes of him. If, however, the Right Honorable Gentleman should say to 
me, ' Where else would you put that Noble Lord, would you have him ap« 
pointed War-Minister again V I should say, Oh no, by no means, — I re- 
member too well the expeditions to Toulon, to Quiberon, to Corsica, and 
to Holland, the responsibility for each of which the Noble Lord took on 
himj-eif, entirely releasing from any responsibility the Commander in Chief 
and the Secretary at W^ar. I also remember that, which, although so glo- 
rious to our arms in the result, I still shall call a most unwarrantable 
project, — the expedition to Egypt. It may be said, that as the Noble Lord 
was so unfit for the military department, the naval was the proper place 
for him. Perhaps there were people who would adopt this whimsical rea- 
soning. I remember a story told respecting Mr. Garrick, who was once 
applied to by an eccentric Scotchman, to introduce a production of his on 
the stage. This Scotchman was such a good-humored fellow, that he was 
called * Honest Johnny M'Cree.' Johnny wrote four acts of a tragedy, 
which he showed to Mr. Garrick, who dissuaded him from finishing it ; 
telling him that his talent did not lie that way ; so Johnny abandoned the 
tragedy, and set about writing a comedy. Vr^hen this was finished, he 
showed it to Mr. Garrick, who found it to be still more exceptionable than 
the tragedy, and of course could not be persuaded to bring it forward on 
the stage. This surprised poor Johnny, and he remonstrated. * Nay, now, 
David, (said Johnny,) did you not tell me my talents did not lie in tra- 
gedy?' — ' Yes, (replied Garrick,) but I did not tell you that they lay in 
comedy.'—' Then, (exclaimed Johnny,) gin they dinna lie there, where the 
de'il dittha lie, mon V Unless the Noble Lord at the head of the Admiral- 
ty has the same reasoning in his mind as Johnny M'Cree, he cannot possi- 
bly suppose that his incapacity for the direction of the War-department 
necessarily qualifies him for the Presidency of the Naval. Perhaps, if the 
Noble Lord be told that he has no talents for the latter. His Lordship may 
exclaim with honest Johnny M'Cree, ' Gin they dinna lie there, where the 
de'il dittha lie, mon ?' ^' 

On the 10th of May, the claims of the Roman Catholics of Ire 



RKJH'T HON. UlCIiARr) BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 239 

land, were, for the first time, brought under the notice of the Im- 
perial Parliament, by Lord Grenville iii the House of Lords, and 
by Mr. Fox in the House of Commons. A few days before the 
debate, as appears by the following remarkable letter, Mr. Sheri- 
dan was made the medium of a communication from Carlton- 
House, the object of which was to prevent Mr. Fox from pre- 
senting the Petition. 

"Dear Sheridan, 

" I did not receive your letter till last night. 

" I did, on Thursday, consent to be the presenter of the Catho- 
lic Petition, at the request of the Delegates, and had further cor- 
versation on the subject with them at Lord Grenville's yesterday 
morning. Lord Grenville also consented to present the Petition 
to the House of Lords. Now, therefore, any discussion on this 
part of the subject would be too late ; but I will fairly own, that, 
if it were not, I could not be dissuaded from doing the public act, 
which, of all others, it will give me the greatest satisfaction and 
pride to perform. No past event in my political life ever did 
and no future one ever can, give me such pleasure. 

" I am sure you know how painful it would be to me to dis- 
obey any command of His Royal Highness's, or even to act in 
any manner that might be in the slightest degree contrary to his 
wishes, and therefore I am not sorry that your intimation came 
too late. I shall endeavor to see the Prince to-day ; but, if I 
should fail, pray take care that he knows how things stand before 
we meet at dinner, lest any conversation there should appear to 
come upon him by surprise. 

" Yours ever, 

" Arlington Street, Sunday, " C. J. F." 

It would be rash, without some further insight into the circum- 
stances of this singular interference, to enter into any specu- 
lations with respect to its nature or motives, or to pronounce how 
far Mr. Sheridan was justified in being the instrument of it. But 
on the share of Mr. Fox in the transaction, such suspension of 



2i0 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

opinion is unnecessary. We have here his simple and honest 
words before us, — and they breathe a spirit of sincerity from 
which even Princes might take a lesson with advantage. 

Mr. Pitt was not long in discovering that place does not always 
imply Power, and that in separating himself from the other able 
men of the day, he had but created an Opposition as much too 
strong for the Government, as the Government itself w^as too 
weak for the coimtry. Tlie humiliating resource to which he 
w^as driven, in trying, as a tonic, the reluctant alliance of Lord 
Sidmouth, — the abortiveness of his efforts to avert the fall of his 
old friend, Lord Melville, and the fatality of ill luck that still 
attended his exertions against France, — all concurred to render 
this reign of the once powerful Minister a series of humiliations, 
shifts, and disasters, unlike his former proud period in every 
thing but ill success. The powerful Coalition opposed to him 
already had a prospect of carrying by storm the post which he 
occupied, when, by his death, it was surrendered, without parley, 
into their hands. 

The Administration that succeeded, under the auspices of Lord 
Grenville and Mr. Fox, bore a resemblance to the celebrated 
Brass of Corinth, more, perhaps, in the variety of the metals 
brought together, than in the perfection of the compound that 
resulted from their fusion."* There were comprised in it, indeed, 
not only the two great parties of the leading chiefs, but those 
v\'higs who differed with them both under the Addington Minis- 
try, and the Addingtons that differed with them all on the suK 
jtjct of the Catholic claims. With this last anomalous additiof 
to the miscellany the influence of Sheridan is mainly chargeable. 
Having, for some time past, exerted all his powers of manage- 
ment to bring about a coalition between Carl ton-House and Lord 
Sidmouth, he had been at length so successful, that upon the 
formation of the present Ministry, it was the express desire of 
the Prince that Lord Sidmouth should constitute a part of it. 

♦ See in the Annual Reg-isler of 1800, some able remarks upon Coalitions in gencral^ vm 
well as a temperate defence of this Coalition in particular, — for which tliat work is, I 8us- 
pecl. indebted to a hand f-uch as has not often, since the time of Burke, enriched its pages 



SIGHT HON. RICHARD fiRtNSLEY SHERIDAN. 2H 

To the same unlucky influence, too, is to be traced the very 
questionable measure, (notwithstanding the great learning and 
ability with which it was defended,) of introducing the Chief 
Justice, Lord Ellenborough, into the Cabinet. 

As to Sheridan's own share in the arrangements, it was, no 
doubt, expected by hhn that he should now be included among 
the members of the Cabinet ; and it is probable that Mr. Fox, 
at the head of a purely Whig ministry, would have so far con- 
sidered the services of his ancient ally, and the popularity still 
attached to his name through the country, as to confer upon him 
this mark of distinction and confidence. But there were other 
interests to be consulted ; — and the undisguised earnestness with 
which Sheridan had opposed the union of his party with the 
Grenvilles, left him but little supererogation of services to expect 
in that quarter. Some of his nearest friends, and particularly 
Mrs. Sheridan, entreated, as I understand, in the most anxious 
manner, that he would not accept any such office as that of Trea- 
surer of the Navy, for the responsibility and business of which 
they knew his habits so wholly unfitted him, — but that, if exclud- 
ed by his colleagues from the distinction of a seat in the Cabi- 
net, he should decline all office whatsoever, and take his chance 
in a friendly independence of them. But the time was now past 
when he could afford to adopt this policy, — the emoluments of a 
place were too necessary to him to be rejected ; — and, in accept- 
ing the same office that had been allotted to him in the Regency- 
arrangements of 1789, he must have felt, w^ith no small degree 
of mortification, how stationary all his efforts since then had left 
him, and what a blank was thus made of all his services in the 
interval. 

The period of this Ministry, connected with the name of Mr. 
Fox, though brief, and in some respects, far from laudable, was 
distinguished by two measures, — the Plan of Limited Service, 
and the Resolution for the Abolition of the Slave-Trade, — which 
will long be remembered to the honor of those concerned in 
them. The motion of Mr. Fox against the Slave-Trade was the 
last he ever made in Parliament ; — and the same sort of mclari- 

VOL. II. 11 



242 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

choly admiration that Pliny expresses, in speaking of a beautiful 
picture, the painter of which had died in finishing it, — " dolor 
manus^ dum idageret^ abreptce,''—coniQs naturally over our hearts 
in thinking of the last glorious work, to which this illustrious 
statesman, in dying, set his hand. 

Though it is not true, as has been asserted, that Mr. Fox re- 
fused to see Sheridan in his last illness, it is but too certain that 
those appearances of alienation or reserve, which had been for 
some time past observable in the former, continued to throw a 
restraint over their intercourse with each other to the last. It is 
a proof, however, of the absence of any serious grounds for this 
distrust, that Sheridan was the person selected by the relatives 
of Mr. Fox to preside over and direct the arrangements of the 
funeral, and that he put the last, solemn seal to their long inti- 
macy, by following his friend, as mourner, to the grave. 

The honor of representing the city of Westminster in Parlia- 
ment had been, for some time, one of the dreams of Sheridan's 
ambition. It was suspected, indeed, — I know not with what jus- 
tice, — that in advising Mr. Fox, as he is said to have done, about 
the year 1800, to secede from public life altogether, he was actu- 
ated by a wish to succeed him in the representation of West- 
minster, and had even already set on foot some private negotia- 
tions towards that object. Whatever grounds there may have 
been for this suspicion, the strong wish that he felt on the subject 
had long been sufficiently known to his colleagues ; and on the 
death of Mr. Fox, it appeared, not only to himself, but the pub- 
lic, that he was the person naturally pointed out as most fit to 
be his parliamentary successor. It was, therefore, with no slight 
degTce of disappointment he discovered, that the ascendancy of 
Aristocratic influence. was, as usual, to prevail, and that the young 
son of the Duke of Northumberland would be supported by the 
Government in preference to him. It is but right, however, in 
justice to the Ministry, to state, that the neglect with which thej 
appear to have treated him on this occasion, — particularly in not. 
apprising him of their decision in favor of Lord Percy, suffi- 
ciently early to save him_ from the humiliaticn of a fruitless at- 



manr iioN'. kiciiard brik-sley sheridan. 243 

tempt, — is proved, by the following letters, to have originated in 
a double misapprehension, by which, while Sheridan, on one side, 
was led to believe that the Ministers would favor his pretensions, 
the Ministers, on the other, were induced to think that he had 
given up all intentions of being a candidate. 

The first letter is addressed to the gentleman, (one of Sheri- 
dan's intimate friends,) who seems to have been, unintentionally, 
the cause of the mistake on both sides. 

" Dear , Somerset-Place, September 14. 

" You must have seen by my manner, yesterday, how much I 
was surprised and hurt at learning, for the first time, that Lord 
Grenville had, many days previous to Mr. Fox's death, decided 
to support Lord Percy on the expected vacancy for Westmins- 
ter, and that you had since been the active agent in the canvass 
actually commenced. I do not like to think I have grounds to com- 
plain or change my opinion of any friend, without being very 
explicit, and opening my mind, without reserve, on such a sub- 
ject. I must frankly declare, that I think you have brought 
yourself and me into a very unpleasant dilemma. You seemed 
to say, last night, that you had not been apprised of my inten- 
tion to offer for Westminster on the apprehended vacancy. 1 
am confident you have acted under that impression ; but I must 
impute to you either great inattention to what fell from me in 
our last conversation on the subject, or great inaccuracy of re- 
collection ; for I solemnly protest I considered you as the indi 
vidual most distinctly apprised, that at this moment to succeed 
that great man and revered friend in Westminster, should the fa 
tal event take place, would be the highest object of my ambi 
tion ; for, in that conversation I thanked you expressly for in 
forming me that Lord Grenville had said to yourself, upon Lord 
Percy being suggested to him, that he. Lord Grenville, 'would 
decide on nothing until Mr. Sheridan had been spoken to, and his 
intentions known,'' or words precisely to that effect. I expressed 
my grateful sense of Lord Grenville's attention, and said, that it 



244 MEliiOIES OF THE LIFE OF THE 

would confirm me \n my intention of making no application^ 
however hopeless myself respecting Mr. Fox, while life remained 
with him, — and these words of Lord Grenville you allowed last 
night to have been so stated to me, though not as a message 
from His Lordship. Since that time 1 think we have not hap- 
pened to meet ; at least sure I am, we have had no conversation 
on the subject. Having the highest opinion of Lord Grenville's 
honor and sincerity, I must be confident that he must have had 
another impression made on his mind respecting my wishes be- 
fore I w^as entirely passed by. I do not mean to say that my 
offering myself was immediately to entitle me to the support of 
Government, but I do m^ean to say, that my pretensions were 
entitled to consideration before that support was offered to ano- 
ther without the slightest notice taken of me, — the more espe- 
cially as the words of Lord Grenville, reported by you to me, 
had been stated by me to many friends as my reliance and jus- 
tification in not following their advice by making a direct appli- 
cation to Government. I pledged myself to them that Lord 
Grenville would not promise the support of Government till my 
intentions had been asked, and I quoted your authority for domg 
so : I never heard a syllable of that support being promised to 
Lord Percy until from you on the evening of Mr. Fox's death. 
Did I ever authorize you to inform Lord Grenville that I had 
abandoned the idea of offering myself? These are points which 
it is necessary, for the honor of all parties, should be amicably 
explained. I therefore propose, as the shortest way of effecting 
it, — wishing you not to consider this letter as in any degree con- 
fidential, — that my statements in this letter may be submitted to 
any two common friends, or to the Lord Chancellor alone, and 
let it be ascertained where the error has arisen, for error is all I 
complain of; and, with regard to Lord Grenville, I desire dis- 
tinctly to say, that I feel myself indebted for the fairness and 
kindness of his intentions towards me. My disappomtment of 
the protection of Government may be a sufHcient excuse to the 
friends I am pledged to, should I retire; but I must have it 



HIGHT HON. BICHAED BEI^'SLEY SHERIDAN. 245 

understood whether or not I deceived them, when I led them to 
expect that I should have that support. 

*' 1 hope to remain ever yours sincerely, 

" R. B. Sheridan. 
'' The sooner the reference I propose the better." 

The second letter, which is still further explanatory of the 
naisconception, was addressed by Sheridan to Lord Grenville : 

" My dear Lord, 

" Since I had the honor of Your Lordship's letter, I have re- 
ceived one from Mr. , in which, I am sorry to observe he 

is silent as to my offer of meeting, in the presence of a third per- 
son, in order to ascertain whether he did or not so report a con- 
versation with Your Lordship as to impress on my mind a belief 
that my pretensions would be considered, before the support of 
Government should be pledged elsewhere. Instead of this, he 
not only does not admit the precise words quoted by "me, but does 
not state what he allows he did say. If he denies that he ever 
gave me reason to adopt the belief I have stated, be it so ; but 
the only stipulation I have made is that we should come to an 
explicit understanding on this subject, — not with a view to quot- 
ing words or repeating names, but that the misapprehension, 
whatever it was, may be so admitted as not to leave me under 
an unmerited degree of discredit and disgi*ace. Mr. cer- 
tainly never encouraged me to stand for Westminster, but, on 
the contrary, advised me to support Lord Percy, which made me 
the more mark at the time the fairness with which I thought he 
apprised me of the preference my pretensions were likely to re 
ceive in Your Lordship's consideration. 

" Unquestionably Your Lordship's recollection of what passed 

between Mr. and yourself must be just ; and were it no 

more than what you said on the same subject to Lord Howick, 
I consider it as a mark of attention ; but what has astonished me 

is, that Mr. should ever have informed Your Lordship, 

p be admits he did, that I had no intention of offering iiijselfp 



246 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

This naturally must have put from your mmd whatever degree 
of disposition was there to have made a preferable application to 
me ; and Lord Howick's answer to your question, on which I 
have ventured to make a friendly remonstrance, must have con- 
firmed Mr. 's report. But allow me to suppose that 1 had 

myself seen Your Lordship, and that you had explicitly promised 
me the support of Government, and had afterwards sent for me 
and informed me that it was at all an object to you that I should 
give way to Lord Percy, I assure you, with the utmost sincerity, 
that I should cheerfully have withdrawn myself, and applied eve- 
ry interest I possessed as your Lordship should have directed. 

" All I request is, that what passed between me and Mr. 

may take an intelligible shape before any common friend, or be- 
fore Your Lordship. This I conceive to be a preliminary due to 
my own honor, and what he ought not to evade." 

The Address w^hich he delivered, at the Crown and Anchor 
Tavern, in declining the offer of support which many of the elec- 
tors still pressed upon him, contains some of those touches of 
personal feeling which a biographer is more particularly bound 
to preserve. In speaking of Mr. Fox, he said, — 

'' It is true there have been occasions upon which I have differed with him 
— painful recollections of the most painful moments of my political life! 
Nor were there wanting those who endeavored to represent these differ- 
ences as a departure from the homage which his superior mind, though un- 
claimed by him, was entitled to, and from the allegiance of friendship 
which our hearts all swore to him. But never was the genuine and con- 
fiding texture of his soul more manifest than on such occasions ; he knew 
that nothing on earth could detach me from him ; and he resented insinua- 
tions against the sincerity and integrity of a friend, which he would not 
have noticed had they been pointed against himself. With such a man to 
have battled in the cause of genuine liberty,— with such a man to have 
struggled against the inroads of oppression and corruption, — with such an 
example before me, to have to boast that I never in my life gave one vot^ 
in Parliament that was not on the side of freedom, is the congratulation 
that attends the retrospect of my public life. ., His friendship was the pride 
and honor of my days. I never, for one moment, regretted to share wiih 
him the difficulties, the caiunmies, and sometimes even the dangers, th/it 



BIGHT HO^^. KICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 247 

attended an honorable course. And now, reviewing my past political iife^ 
were the option possible that I should retread the path. I solemnly and de- 
liberately declare that I would prefer to pursue the same course ; to bear 
up inder the same pressure ; to abide by the same principles ; and remain 
by his side an exile from power, distinction, and emolument, rather than be 
at this moment a splendid example of successful servility or prosperous 
apostacy, though clothed with power, honor, titles, gorged with sinecures, 
and lord of hoards obtained from the plunder of the people.'' 

At the conclusion of his Address he thus alludes, with evi- 
dently a deep feeling of discontent, to the circumstances that had 
obliged him to decline the honor now proposed to him : — 

" Hliberal warnings have been held out, most unauthoritatively I know, 
that by persevering in the present contest I may risk my official situation, 
and if I reth'e, I am aware, that minds, as coarse and illiberal, may assign 
the dread of that as ray motive. To such insinuations I shall scorn to make 
any other reply than a reference to the whole of my past political career. 
I consider it as no boast to say, that any one who has struggled through 
such a portion of life as I have, without obtaining an office, is not likely to 
abandon his principles to retain one when acquired. If riches do not give 
independence, the next best thing to being very rich is to have been used 
to be very poor. But independence is not allied to v/ealth, to birth, to 
rank, to power, to titles, or to honor. Independence is in the mind of a 
man, or it is no where. On this ground were I to decline the contest, I 
should scorn the imputation that should bring the purity of my purpose 
into doubt. No Minister can expect to find in me a servile vassal. No Mi- 
nister can expect from me the abandonment of any principle I have avowed, 
or any pledge I have given. I know not that I have hitherto shrunk 
in place from opinions I have maintained while in oppposition. Did there 
exist a Minister of a different cast from any I know in being, were he to 
attempt to exact from me a different conduct, my office should be at his 
service to-morrow. Such a Minister might strip me of my situation, in some 
respects of considerable emolument, but he could not strip me of the proud 
conviction that I was right ; he could not strip me of my own self-esteem ; 
he could not strip me, I think, of some portion of the confidence and good 
opinion of the people. But I am noticing the calumnious threat I allude 
to more than it deserves. There can be no peril, I venture to assert, un- 
der the present Government, in the ii-ee exercise of discretion, such as be- 
longs to the present question. I therefore disclaim the merit of putting 
anything to hazard. If I have missed the opportunity of obtaining all the 
support I might, perhaps, have had on the present occasion, from a very 



248 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

scrupulous delicacy, whicli I tlii,nk became and was incumbent upon me, 
but which I by no means conceive to have been a fit rule for others, I can 
not repent it. While the slightest aspiration of breath passed those lips, 
now closed for ever, — while one drop of life's blood beat in that heart, now 
cold for ever, — I could not, I ought not, to have acted otherwise than I 
did. — I now come with a very embarrassed feeling to that declaration which 
I yet think you must have expected from me, but which I make with re- 
luctance, because, from the marked approbation I have experienced from 
you, I fear that with reluctance you will receive it. — I feel myself under 
the necessity of retiring from this contest.'' 

About three weeks after, ensued the Dissolution of Parliament, 
•—a measure attended with considerable unpopularity to the 
Ministry, and originating as much in the enmity of one of its 
members to Lord Sidmouth, as the introduction of that noble 
Lord among them, at all, was owing to the friendship of another. 
In consequence of this event. Lord Percy having declined offering 
himself again, Mr. Sheridan became a candidate for Westmmster, 
and after a most riotous contest with a demagogue of the mo- 
ment, named Paull, was. together with Sir Samuel Hood, declared 
duly elected. 

The moderate measure in favor of the Roman Catholics, which 
the Ministry now thought it due to the expectations of that body 
to bring forward, was, as might be expected, taken advantage of 
by the King to rid himself of their counsels, and produced one 
of those bursts of bigotry, by which the people of England have 
so often disgraced themselves. It is sometimes a misfortune to 
men of wit, that they put their opinions in a form to be remem- 
bered. We might, perhaps, have been ignorant of the keen, but 
worldly view which Mr. Sheridan, on this occasion, took of the 
hardihood of his colleagues, if he had not himself expressed it 
in a form so portable to the memory. " He had often," he said, 
"• heard of people knocking out their brains against a wall, but 
never before knew of any one building a wall expressly for the 
purpose." 

It must be o\vned, indeed, that, thoucrh far too saojaeious and 
liberal not to be deeply impressed with the justice of the claims 
advanced b^^ the Catholics, he was not altogether disposed to go 



EIGHT HON. EICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 249 

those generous lengths in their favor, of which Mr. Fox and a few- 
others of their less calculating friends were capable. It was his 
avowed opinion, that, though the measure, whenever brought for- 
ward, should be supported and enforced by the whole weight of 
the party, they ought never so far to identify or encumber them 
selves with it, as to make its adoption a sine-qua-non of their 
acceptance or retention of office. His support, too, of the Min- 
istry of Mr. Addington, which was as virtually pledged against the 
Catholics as that which now succeeded to power, sufficiently 
shows the secondary station that this great question occupied in 
his mind ; nor can such a deviation from the usual tone of his po- 
litical feelings be otherwise accounted for, than by supposing 
that he was aware of the existence of a strong indisposition to the 
measure in that quarter, by whose views and wishes his public 
conduct was, in most cases, regulated. 

On the general question, however, of the misgovernment of 
Ireland, and the disabilities of the Catholics, as forming its most 
prominent feature, his zeal was always forthcoming and ardent, 
— and never more so than during the present Session, when, on 
the question of the Irish Arms Bill, and his own motion upon 
the State of Ireland, he distinguished himself by an animation 
and vigor worthy of the best period of his eloquence. 

Mr. Grattan, in supporting the coercive measures now adopted 
against his country, had shov/n himself, for once, alarmed into a 
concurrence with the wretched system of governing by Insurrec- 
tion Acts, and, for once, lent his sanction to the principle upon 
vAich all such measures are founded, namely, that of enabling 
Power to defend itself against the consequences of its own ty- 
ranny and injustice. In alluding to some expressions used by 
this great man, Sheridan said : — 

» 
" He now happened to recollect what was said by a Right Honorable 
Gentleman, to whose opinions they all deferred, (Mr. Grattan,) that not- 
withstanding he voted for the present measure, with all its defects, rather 
than lose it althgether, yet that gentleman said, that he hoped to secure 
the revisionary Interest of the Constitution to Ireland. But when he saw 
that the Constitution was suspended from the year 1796 to the present pe- 

ytj., II, ij^' 



250 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

riod, and that it was now likely to be continued for tltree years longer, the 
danger was that we might lose the interest altogether ; — when we were 
mortgaged for such a length of time, at last a foreclosure might take place.*' 

The following is an instance of that happy power of applying 
old stories, for which Mr. Windham, no less than Sheridan, was 
remarkable, and which, by promoting anecdote into the service 
of argument and wit, ennobles it, when trivial, and gives new 
youth to it, when old. 

" When they and others complain of the discontents of the Irish, they 
never appear to consider the cause. "When they express their surprise that 
the Irish are not contented, while according to their observation, that peo- 
ple have so much reason to be happy, they betray a total ignorance of their 
actual circumstances. The fact is, that the tyranny practised upon the Irish 
has been throughout unremitting. There has been no change but in the 
manner of inflicting it. They have had nothing but variety in oppression, 
extending to all ranks and degrees of a certain description of the people. 
If you would know what this varied oppression consisted in, I refer you to 
the Penal Statutes you have repealed, and to some of those which still ex- 
ist. There you will see the high and the low equally subjected to the lash 
of persecution ; and yet still some persons affect to be astonished at the 
discontents of the Irish. But with all my reluctance to introduce any thing 
ludicrous upon so serious an occasion, I cannot help referring to a liltle 
story whicli those very astonished persons call to my mind. It was with re- 
spect to an Irish drummer, who was employed to inflict punishment upon a 
soldier. When the boy struck high, the poor soldier exclaimed, ' Lower, 
bless you,' with which the boy complied. But soon after the soldier ex- 
claimed, ' Higher if you please,' But again he called out, *A little lower ;' 
upon which the accommodating boy addressed him — ' Now, upon my con- 
science, I see you are a disconteuted man ; for, strike where I may, there's 
no pleasing you.' Nov/ your complaint of the discontents of the Irish ap- 
pears to me quite as rational, while you continue to strike, only altering the 
place of attack." 

Upon this speech, which may be considered as the hotiqmt^ or 
last parting blaze of his eloquence, he appears to have bestowed 
considerable care and thought. The concluding sentences of the 
following passage, though in his very worst taste, were as anx- 
iously labored by hun^ and put through as many rehearsals oi> 



BIGHT HON. KICHAED BEIInSLEY SHEEIDAN. 251 

paper, as any of the most highly finished mtticisms in The School 
for Scandal. 

" I cannot think patiently of such petty squabbles, while Bonaparte is 
grasping the nations ; while he is surrounding France, not with that iron 
frontier, for which the wish and childish ambition of Louis XIY. was so 
eager, but with kingdoms of his own creation ; securing the gratitude of 
higher minds as the hostage, and the fears of others as pledges for his 
safety. His are no ordinary fortifications. His martello towers are thrones ; 
sceptres tipt with crowns are the palisadoes of his entrenchments, and Kings 
are his sentinels." 

The Reporter here, by " tipping " the sceptres " with crowns," 
has improved, rather unnecessarily, upon the finery of the origi- 
nal. The following are specimens of the various trials of this 
passage which I find scribbled over detached scraps of paper : — 

'' Contrast the different attitudes and occupations of the two govern- 
ments : — B. eighteen months from his capital, — head-quarters in the vil- 
lages, — neither Berlin nor Yv^arsaw, — dethroning aud creating thrones, — 
the works he raises are monarchies, — sceptres his palisadoes, thrones his 
martello towers.' ' 

" Commissioning kings, — erecting thrones, — martello towers, — Camba- 
ceres count noses, — Austrians, fine dressed, like Pompey's troops." 

•' B. fences with sceptres, — his martello towers are thrones, — he alone is 
France." 

Another Dissolution of Parliament having taken place this 
year, he again became a candidate for the city of Westminster. 
But, after a violent contest, during which he stood the coarse 
abuse of the mob with the utmost good humor and playfulness, 
the election ended in favor of Sir Francis Burdett and Lord 
Cochrane, and Sheridan was returned, with his friend Mr. 
Michael Angelo Taylor, for the borough of llchester. 

In the autumn of 1807 he had conceived some idea of leasing 
the property of Drury-Lane Theatre, and with that view had set 
on foot, through Mr. Michael Kelly, who was then in Ireland, a 
negotiation with Mr. Frederick Jones, the proprietor of the 
Dublin Theatre. In explaining his object to Mr. Kelly, in a let- 
ter dated August 30, 1807 ho describes it as "a plan by which 



252 MEMOIKS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

the property may be leased to those who have the skill and the 
industry to manage it as it should be for their own advantage, 
upon terms which would render any risk to them almost impos- 
sible; — the profit to them, (he adds,) would probably be be- 
yond what I could now venture to state, and yet upon terms 
which would be much better for the real proprietors than any 
thing that can arise from the careless and ignorant manner in 
which the undertaking is now misconducted by those who, my 
son excepted, have no interest in its success, and who lose 
nothing by its failure." 

The negotiation with Mr. Jones was continued into the follow- 
ing year; and, according to a draft of agreement, which this 
gentleman has been kind enough to show me, in Sheridan's hand- 
writing, it was intended that Mr. Jones should, on becoming 
proprietor of one quarter-share of the property, " undertake the 
management of the Theatre in conjunction with Mr. T. Sheridan, 
and be entitled to the same remuneration, namely, 1000/. per 
annum certain income, and a certain per centage on the net pro- 
fits arising from the office-receipts, as should be agreed upon," 
&;c. &c. 

The following memorandum of a bet connected with this trans- 
action, is of somewhat a higher class of wagers than the One 
Tun Tavern has often had the honor of recording among its ar- 
chives : — 



" One Tun, St. James's Market, May 26, 1808. 
'' In the presence of Messrs. G. Ponsonby, R. Power, and Mr. Becher,* 
Mr. Jones bets Mr. Sheridan five hundred guineas that he, Mr. Sheridan, 
does not write, and produce under his name, a play of five acts, or a first 
piece of three, within the term of three years from the 15th of September 
next. — It is distinctly to be understood that this bet is not valid unless Itlr. 



* It is not without a deep feeling of melancholy that I transcribe this paper. Of 
three of my most valued friends, whose names are signed to it, — Becher, Ponsonby, and 
Power, — the last has, within a few short months, been snatched away, leaving behind 
him the recollection of as many gentle and manly virtues as ever conciu red to give 
sweetness and strength to character 



RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLET SHERIDAN. 253 

Jones becomes a partner in Drury-Lane Theatre before the commencement 

of the ensuing season. 

'' Richard Power, " R. B. Sheridan, 

" George Ponsonby, *• Fred. Edw. Jones. 

" W. W. Becher. 
" N. B. — W. W. Becher and Richard Power join, one fifty, — the other 

one hundred pounds in this bet. 

" R. POWER.'^ 

The grand movement of Spain, in the year 1808, which led to 
consequences so important to the rest of Europe, though it has 
left herself as enslaved and priest-ridden as ever, was hailed by 
Sheridan with all that prompt and well-timed ardor, with which 
he alone, of all his party, knew how to meet such great occa- 
sions. Had his political associates but learned from his exam- 
ple thus to place themselves in advance of the procession of 
events, they would not have had the triumphal wheels pass by 
them and over them so frequently. Immediately on the arrival 
of the Deputies from Spain, he called the attention of the House 
to the affairs of that country ; and his speech on the subject, 
though short and unstudied, had not only the merit of falling in 
with the popular feeling at the moment, but, from the views which 
it pointed out through the bright opening now made by Spain, 
was every way calculated to be useful both at home and abroad. 

'' Let Spain," he said, '' see, that we were not inclined to stint the ser- 
vices we had it in our power to render her ; that we were not actuated by 
the desire of any petty advantage to ourselves ; but that our exertions 
were to be solely directed to the attainment of the grand and general ob- 
ject, the emancipation of the world. If the flame were once fairly caught, 
our success was certain. France would then find, that she had hitherto 
been contending only against principalities, powers, and authorities, but 
that she had now to contend against a people.'' 

The death of Lord Lake this year removed those difficulties 
which had, ever since the appointment of Sheridan to the Re.- 
eeivership of the Duchy of Cornwall, stood in the way of his 
reaping the full advantages of that office. Previously to the 
departure of General Lake for India, the Prince had granted to 



254 MEMOiKS OF THE LIFE OP THEJ 

him the reversion of this situation which was then filled by Lord 
Elliot. It was afterwards, however, discovered that, according 
to the terms of the Grant, the place could not be legally held or 
deputed by any one who had not been actually sworn into it be- 
fore the Prince's Council. On the death of Lord Elliot, there- 
fore, His Royal Highness thought himself authorized, as we have 
seen, in conferring the appointment upon Mr. Sheridan. This 
step, however, was considered by the friends of General Lake 
as not only a breach of promise, but a violation of right ; and it 
would seem from one of the documents which I am about to give, 
that measures were even in train for enforcing the claim by law. 
The first is a Letter on the subject from Sheridan to Colonel 
M'Mahon: — 

" My dear M'Mahox, Thursday evening, 

" I have thoroughly considered and reconsidered the subject 
we talked upon to-day. Nothing on earth shall make me risk 
the possibility of the Prince's goodness to me furnishing an op- 
portunity for a single scurrilous fool's presuming to hint even 
that he had, in the slightest manner, departed from the slightest 
engagement. The Prince's right, in point of law and justice, on 
the present occasion to recall the appointment given, I hold to be 
incontestable ; but, believe me, I am right in the proposition I 
took the liberty of submitting to His Royal Highness, and 
which (so far is he from wishing to hurt General Lake,) he gra- 
ciously approved. But understand me, — my meaning is to give 
up the emoluments of the situation to General Lake, holding the 
situation at the Prince's pleasure, and abiding by an arbitrated 
estimate of General Lake's claim, supposing His Royal High- 
ness had appointed him ; in other words, to value his interest in 
the appointment as if he had it, and to pay him for it or resign 
to him. 

" With the Prince's permission I should be glad to meet Mr. 
Warwick Lake, and I am confident that no two men of common 
sense and good intentions can fail, in ten minutes, to arrange it 
so as to meet the Prince's wishes, and not to leave the shadow 



niGHT HOK. RiCHAItD BEIKSLEY SHERIDAN. 255 

of a pretence for envious malignity to whisper a word against his 

decision. 

'' Yours ever, 

" R. B. Sheridan. 
" I write in great haste — going to A ." 

The other Paper that I shall give, as throwing light on the 
transaction, is a rough and unfinished sketch by Sheridan of a 
statement intended to be transmitted to General Lake, containing 
the particulars of both Grants, and the documents connected with 
them : — 

" Dear General, 

" I am commanded by the Prince of Wales to transmit to 
you a correct Statement of a transaction in which your name is 
so much implicated, and in which his feelings have been greatly 
wounded from a quarter, I am commanded to say, wdience he 
did not expect such conduct. 

" As I am directed to communicate the particulars in the most 
authentic form, you will, I am sure, excuse on this occasion my 
not adopting the mode of a familiar letter. 

" Authentic Statement respecting the Appointment by His Royal 
• Highness the Prince of Wales to the Receivership of the Duchy 
of Cornwall, in the Year 1804, to be transmitted by His Royal 
Highness's Command, to Lieu tenant-General Lake, Command- 
er-in-Chief of the Forces in India. 

" The circumstances attending th^ original reversionary Grant 
to General Lake are stated in the brief for Counsel on this occa- 
sion by Mr. Bignell, the Prince's solicitor, to be as follow : 
(No. I.) It w\as afterw^ards understood by the Prince that the 
service he had wished to render General Lake, by this Grant, 
had been defeated by the terms of It ; and so clearly had it been 
shown that there were essential duties attached to the office, 
which no Deputy was competent to execute, and that a Deputy, 
even for the collection of the rents, could not be appointed but 
by a principal actually in possession of the office, (by having 



256 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

been sworn into it before his Council,) that upon General Lakers 
appointment to the command in India, the Prince could have no 
conception that General Lake could have left the country under 
an impression or expectation that the Prince would appoint him, 
in case of a vacancy, to the place in question. Accordingly, His 
Eoyal Highness, on the very day he heard of the death of Lord 
Elliot, unsolicited, and of his own graciou.s suggestion, appointed 
Mr. Sheridan. Mr. Sheridan returned, the next day, in a letter 
to the Prince, such an answer and acknovrdedgment as might be 
expected- from him; and, accordingly, directions were given to 
make out his patent. On the ensuing His Eoyal High- 
ness was greatly surprised at receiving the following letter from 
Mr. "Warwick Lake. (No. II.) 

" His Royal Highness immediately directed Mr. Sheridan to 
see Mr. W. Lake, and to state his situation, and how the office 
was circumstanced ; and for further distinctness to make a minute 
in writinof * * * *." 

Such were the circumstances that had, at first, embarrassed his 
enjoym.ent of this office ; but, on the death of Lord Lake, all 
difficulties were removed, and the appointment was confirmed to 
Sheridan for his life. 

In order to afibrd some insight into the nature of that friend- 
ship, which existed so long between the Heir Apparent and 
Sheridan, — though unable, of course, to produce any of the 
numerous letters, on the Eoyal side of the correspondence, that 
have been found among the papers in my possession, — I shall 
here give, from a rough copy in Sheridan's hand-writing, a letter 
which he addressed about this time to the Prince : — 

" It is matter of surprise to myself, as well as of deep regret, 
that I should have incurred the appearance of ungrateful neglect 
and disrespect towards the person to whom I am most oblig- 
ed on earth, to whom I feel the most ardent, dutiful, and 
affectionate attachment, and in whose service I would readily 
sacrifice my life. Yet so it i^, and to nothing but a perverse 



illGHl^ HOir. RICHAIlt) BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 25? 

combination of circumstances, v/hich would form no excuse were 
I to recapitulate them, can I attribute a conduct so strange on 
my part ; and from nothing but Your Eoyal Highness's kind- 
ness and benignity alone can I expect an indulgent allowance and 
oblivion of that conduct : nor could I even hope for this were I 
not conscious of the unabated and unalterable devotion towards 
Your Royal Highness which lives in my heart, and wdll ever con 
tinue to be its pride and boast. 

" But I should ill deserve the indulgence I request did I not 
frankly state what has passed in my mind, which, though it can- 
not justify, may, in some degree, extenuate what must have ap- 
peared so strange to Your Royal Highness, previous to Your 
Royal Highness's having actually restored me to the office I had 
resigned. 

" I was mortified and hurt in the keenest manner by having 
repeated to me from an authority which / then trusted^ some ex- 
pressions of Your Royal Highness respecting me, which it was 
impossible I could have deserved. Though I was most solemnly 
pledged never to reveal the source from which the communica- 
tion came, I for some time intended to unburthen my mind to 
my sincere friend and Your Royal Highness's most attached and 
excellent servant, M'Mahon — but I suddenly discovered, beyond 
a doubt, that I had been grossly deceived, and that there had not 
existed the slightest foundation for the tale that had been imposed 
on me; and I do humbly ask Your Royal Highness's pardon for 
having for a moment credited a fiction suggested by mischief and 
malice. Yet, extraordinary as it must seem, I had so long, under 
this false impression, neglected the course which duty and grati- 
tude required from me, that I felt an unaccountable shyness and 
reserve in repairing my error, and to this procrastination other 
unlucky circumstances contributed. One day when I had the 
honor of meeting Your Royal Highness on horseback in Oxford- 
Street, though your manner was as usual gracious and kind to 
me, you said that I had deserted you privately and politically, 
I had long before that been assured, though falsely I am con- 
vinced, that Your Royal Highness had promised to make a point 



^58 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

that I should neither speak nor vote on Lord Wellesly's business^ 
My view of this topic, and my knowledge of the delicate situa- 
tion in which Your Koyal Highness stood in respect to the 
Catholic question, though weak and inadequat-e motives, I confess, 
yet encouraged the continuance of that reserve which my original 
error had commenced. These subjects being passed by, — arid 
sure I am Your Royal Highness would never deliberately ask 
me to adopt a course of debasing inconsistency, — it was my 
hope fully and frankly to have explained myself and repaired 
my fault, when I was informed that a circumstance that happened 
at Burlington-House, and which must have been heinously mis- 
represented, had greaily offended you ; and soon after it was 
stated to me, by an authority which I have no objection to dis- 
close, that Your Royal Highness had quoted, with marked dis- 
approbation, words supposed to have been spoken by me on the 
Spanish question, and of which words, as there is a God in 
heaven, I never uttered one syllable. 

" Most justly may Your Royal Highness answer to all this, 
w^hy have I not sooner stated these circumstances, and confided 
in that uniform friendship and protection which I have so long 
experienced at your hands. I can only plead a nervous, procras- 
tinatmg nature, abetted, perhaps, by sensations of, I trust, no 
false pride, which, however I may blame myself, impel me in- 
voluntarily to fly from the risk of even a cold look from the 
quarter to which I owe so much, and by whom to be esteemed is 
the glory and consolation of my private and public life. 

" One point only remains for me to intrude upon Your Royal 
Highness's consideration, but it is of a nature fit only for per- 
sonal communication. I therefore conclude, with again entreat- 
h]g Your Royal Highness to continue and extend the indulgence 
which the imperfections in my character have so often received 
from you, and yet to be assured that there never did exist to 
Monarch, Prince, or man, a firmer or purer attachment than I 
feci, and to my death shall feel, to you, my gracious Prince &ud 
Master." 



HiGHT HOIs^. KICHARD BRlNSLEY SHERIDAK, 259 



CHAPTER X. 

DESTRUCTION" OF THE THEATRE OF DRURY-LANE BY FIRE. 
— MR. WHITBREAD. — PLAN FOR A THIRD THEATRE. — ILL- 
NESS OF THE KING. — REGENCY. — LORD GREY AND LORD 
GRENYILLE. — CONDUCT OF MR. SHERIDAN. — HIS VINDI- 
CATION OF HIMSELF. 

With the details of the embarrassments of Drury-Lane Theatre, 
I have endeavored, as little as possible, to encumber the attention 
of the reader. This part of my subject would, indeed, require a 
volume to itself. The successive partnerships entered into with 
Mr. Grubb and Mr. Richardson, — the different Trust-deeds for 
the general and individual property, — the various creations of 
shares, — the controversies between the Trustees and Proprietors, 
as to the obligations of the Deed of 1793, which ended in a 
Chancery-suit in 1799, — the perpetual entanglements of the 
property which Sheridan's private debts occasioned, and which 
even the friendship and skill of Mr. Adam were wearied out in 
endeavoring to rectify, — all this would lead to such a mass of de- 
tails and correspondence as, though I have waded through it my- 
self, it is by no means necessary to inflict upon others. 

The great source of the involvements, both of Sheridan him- 
self and of the concern, is to be found in the enormous excess of 
the expense of rebuilding the Theatre in 1793, over the aaiount 
stated by the architect in his estimate. This amount was 
75,000/. ; and the sum of 150,000/. then raised by subscription, 
would, it was calculated, in addition to defraying this charge, 
pay off also the mortgage-debts with which the Theatre was 
encumbered. It was soon found, however, that the expense of 
building the House alone would exceed the whole amount raised 
by subscription ; and, notwithstanding the advance of a consider- 



260 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

able sum beyond the estimate, the Theatre was delivered in a 
very unfinished state into the hands of the proprietors, — only 
part of the mortgage-debts was paid off, and, altogether a debt 
of 70,000Z. was left upon the property. This debt Mr. Sheridan 
and the other proprietors took, voluntarily, and, as it has been 
thought, inconsiderately, upon themselves, — the builders, by their 
contracts, having no legal claim upon them, — and the payment 
of it being at various tim.es enforced, not only against the 
theatre, but against the private property of Mr. Sheridan, in- 
volved both in a degree of embarrassment from w^hich there 
appeared no hope of extricating them. 

Such was the state of this luckless property, — and it would 
have been difficult to imagine any change for the worse that 
could befall it, — when, early in the present year, an event 
occurred, that seemed to fill up at once the measure of its ruin. 
On the night of the 24th of February, w^hile the House of Com- 
mons was occupied with Mr. Ponsonby's motion on the Conduct 
of the War in Spain, and Mr. Sheridan was in attendance, with 
the intention, no doubt, of speaking, the House was suddenly 
illuminated by a blaze of light ; and, the Debate being interrupt- 
ed, it was ascertained that the Theatre of Drury-Lane w^as on 
fire. A motion was made to adjourn ; but Mr. Sheridan said, 
with much calmness, that " whatever might be the extent of the 
private calamity, he hoped it would not interfere with the pub- 
lic business of the country." He then left the House ; and, pro- 
ceeding to Drury-Lane, witnessed, wdth a fortitude which strong- 
ly interested all who observed him, the entire destruction of his 
property.* 

Among his losses on the occasion there was one which, from 
being associated with feelings of other times, may have affected 

* II is said thai, as he sat at the Piazza Coffee-house, during the fire, taking some re- 
freshment, a friend of his having remarked on the philosophic calmness with which he 
bore his misfortune, Sheridan answered, " A man may surely be allowed to take a glass 
of wine by Ids ovon fire-side.'''' 

Without vouching for the authenticity or novelty of this anecdote, (which may have 
been, for aught I know, like the wandering Jew, a regular attendant upon all fires, since 
the time of Ilierocles,) I give it as I aeard it. 



RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 261 

him, perhaps, more deeply than many that were far more serious. 
A harpsichord, that had belonged to his first wife, and had long 
survived her sweet voice in silent widowhood, was, with other 
articles of furniture that had been moved from Somerset-House 
to the Theatre, lost in the flames. 

The ruin thus brought upon this immense property seemed, 
for a time, beyond all hope of retrieval. The embarrassments 
of the concern were known to have been so great, and such a 
swarm of litigious claims lay slumbering under those ashes, that 
it is not surprising the public should have been slow and unwil- 
ling to touch them. Nothing, indeed, short of the intrepid zeal 
of Mr. Whitbread could have ventured upon the task of reme- 
dying so complex a calamity ; nor could any industry less per- 
severing have compassed the miracle of rebuilding and re-animat- 
ing that edifice, among the many-tongued claims that beset and 
perplexed his enterprise. 

In the following interesting letter to him from Sheridan, we 
trace the first steps of his friendly interference on the occasion : — 

"My Dear Whithbread, 

" Procrastination is always the consequence of an indolent man's resolv- 
ing to write a long detailed letter, upon any subject, hov>^ever important to 
himself, or whatever may be the confidence he has in the friend he pro- 
poses to write to. To this must be attributed your having escaped the state- 
ment I threatened you with in ray last letter, and the brevity with which I 
now propose to call your attention to the serious, and, to me, most impor- 
tant request, contained in this, — reserving all I meant to have written for 
personal communication. 

'' I pay you no compliment when I say that, without comparison, you are 
ihe man liviui^:. in my estimation, the most disposed and the most compe- 
tent to bestow a portion of your time and ability to assist the call of 
friendship, — on the condition that that call shall be proved to be made 
in a cause just and honorable, and in every respect entitled to your pro- 
tection. 

" On this ground alone I make my application to you. You said, some 
time since, in my house, but in a careless conversation only, that you would 
be a Member of a Committee forrebuildingDrury-LaneTheatre, if it would 
serve me ; and, indeed, you very kindly suggested, yourself, that there 
were more persons disposed to assist that object than I might be aware 



262 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

of. I most thankfully accept the offer of your interference, and am con* 
vinced of the benefits your friendly exertions are competent to produce. 
I have worked the whole subject in my own mind, and see a clear way to 
retrieve a great property, at least to my son and his family, if my plan 
meets the support I hope it will appear to merit. • 

" Writing thus to you in the sincerity of private friendship, and the reli- 
ance I place on my opinion of your character, I need not ask of you, though 
eager and active in politics as you are, not to be severe in criticising my 
palpable neglect of all parliamentary duty. It would not be easy to ex- 
plain to you, or even to make you comprehend, or any one in prosperous 
and affluent plight, the private difficulties I have to struggle with. My 
mind, and the resolute independence belonging to it, has not been in the 
least subdued by the late calamity ; but the consequences arising from it 
have more engaged and embarrassed me than, perhaps, I have been wil- 
ling to allow. It has been a principle of my life, persevered in through 
great difficulties, never to borrow money of a private friend ; and this re- 
solution I would starve rather than violate. Of course, I except the politi- 
cal aid of election-subscription. When I ask you to take a part in the set- 
tlement of my shattered aifairs, I ask you only to do so after a previous in- 
vestigation of every part of the past circumstances which relate to the trust 
I wish you to accept, in conjunction with those who wish to serve me, and 
to whom I think you could not object. I may be again seized with an ill- 
ness as alarming as that I lately experienced. Assist me in relieving my 
mind fi'om the greatest affliction that such a situation can again produce, — 
the fear of others suffering by ray death. 

" To effect this little more is necessary than some resolution on my part, 
and the active superintending advice of a mind like yours. 

" Thus far on paper . I will see you next , and therefore will not 

trouble you for a written reply.'- 

Encouraged by the opening which the destruction of Drury- 
Lane seemed to offer to free adventure in theatrical property, a 
project was set on foot for the establishment of a Third Great 
Theatre, which, being backed by much of the influence and wealth 
of the city of London, for some time threatened destruction to the 
monopoly that bad existed so long. But, by the exertions of Mr. 
Sheridan and his friends, this scheme was defeated, and a Bill for 
the erection of Drury-Lane Theatre by subscription, and for the 
incorporation of the subscribers, was passed through Parliament. 

That Mr. Sheridan himself would have had no objection to a 
Third Theatre, if held by a Joint Grant to the Proprietors of the 



BIGHT H02^^. KICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 263 

Other two, appears not only from his speeches and petitions on 
the subject at this time, but from the following Plan for such an 
establishment, drawn up by him, some years before, and intend 
ed to be submitted to the consideration of the Proprietors of 
both Houses : — 



" Gentlemen, 

" According to your desire, the plan of the proposed Assistant Theatre 
is here explained in writing for your further consideration. 

" From our situations in the Theatres Royal of Drury-Lane and Covent- 
Garden we have had opportunities of observing many circumstances rela- 
tive to our general property, which must have escaped those who do not 
materially interfere in the management of that property. One point in par- 
ticular has lately weighed extremely in our opinions, which is, an appre- 
hension of a new Theatre being erected for some species or other of dramatic 
entertainment. Were this event to take place on an opposing interest, our 
property would sink in value one-half, and in all probability, the contest 
that would ensue would speedily end in the absolute ruin of one of the pre- 
sent established Theatres. We have reason, it is true, from His Majesty's 
gracious patronage to the present Houses, to hope, that a Third patent for 
a winter Theatre is not easily to be obtained ; but the motives v»'hich appear 
to call for one are so many, (and those of such a nature, as to increase every 
day,) that we cannot, on the maturest consideration of the subject, divest 
ourselves of the dread that such an event may not be very remote. With 
this apprehension before us, we have naturally fallen into a joint considera- 
tion of the means of preventing so fatal a blow to the present Theatres, or 
of deriving a general advantage from a circumstance which might other 
wise be our ruin. 

" Some of the leading motives for the establishment of a Third Theatre 
are as follows : — 

" 1st. The great extent of the town and increased residence of a higher 
class of people, who. on account of many circumstances, seldom frequent 
the Theatre. ^ 

"' 2d. The distant situation of the Theatres from the politer streets, and 
the dimculty with which ladies reach their carriages or chairs. 

" 8d. The small number of side-boxes, where only, by the uncontrollable 
influence of fashion, ladies of any rank can be induced to sit. 

" 4th. The earliness of the hour, which renders it absolutely impossible 
for those who attend on Parliament, live at any distance, or, indeed, for 
any person who dines at the prevailing hour, to reach the Theatre before 
the performance is half over. 



264 MEMOIKS OF THE LIFE CF THE 

'' These considerations have lately been strongly urged to rae by many 
leading persons of rank. There has also prevailed, as appears by the num- 
ber of private plays at gentlemen's seats, an unusual fashion for theatrical 
entertainments among the politer class of people ; and it is not to be won- 
dered at that they, feeling themselves, (from the causes above enumerat- 
ed,) in a manner, excluded from our Theatres, should persevere in an en- 
deavor to establish some plan of similar entertainment, on principles of 
superior elegance and accommodation. 

*' In proof of this disposition, and the effects to be apprehended from it, 
we need but instance one fact, among many, which might be produced, 
and that is the well-known circumstance of a subscription having actually 
been beg-un last winter, with very powerful patronage, for the importation 
of a French company of comedians, a scheme which, though it might not 
have answered to the undertaking, v»'Ould certainly have been the founda- 
tion of other entertainments, v>hose opposition we should speedily have ex- 
perienced. The question, then, upon a full view of our situation, appears 
to be, whether the Proprietors of the present Theatres will contentedly 
wait till some other person takes advantage of the prevailing wish for a 
Third Theatre, or, having the remedy in their power, profit by a turn of 
fashion which they cannot control. 

" A full conviction that the latter is the only line of conduct which can 
give security to the Patents of Drury-Lane and Covent-Garden Theatres, 
and yield a probability of future advantage in the exercise of them, has 
prompted us to endeavor at modelling this plan, on which we conceive 
those Theatres may unite in the support of a Third, to the general and mu- 
tual advantage of all the Proprietors. 

^' Proposals. 

" The Proprietors of the Theatre-Royal in Covent Garden appear to be 
possessed of two Patents, for the privilege of acting plays, &c., under one 
of which the above-mentioned Theatre is opened, — the other lying dormant 
and useless ; — it is proposed that this dormant Patent shall be exercised, 
(with His Majesty's approbation,) in order to license the dramatic perform- 
once of the new ThAtre to be erected. 

"It is proposed that the performances of this new Theatre shall be sup- 
ported from the united establi&hments of the two present Theatres, so that 
the unemployed part of each company may exert themselves for the ad- 
vantage of the whole. 

" As the object of this Assistant Theatre will be to reimburse the Pro- 
prietors of the other two, at the full season, for the expensive establishment 
they are obliged to maintain v/heu the town is almost empty, it is proposed, 
that the scheme of businesss to be adopted in the new Tlicatre sliall ditler 



RIGHT HON. BICHAKD BRINSLEY SHKEIDAN. 265 

as mucli as possible from that of the other two, and that the performances 
at the new house shall be exhibited at a superior price, and shall commence 
at a later hour. 

'' The Proposers will undertake to provide a Theatre for the purpose, in 
a proper situation, and on the following terms : — If thej engage a Theatre 
to be built, being the property of the builder or builders, it must be for an 
agreed on rent, w^ith security for a term of years. In this case the Proprie- 
tors of the two present Theatres shall jointly and severally engage in the 
whole of the risk ; and the Proposers are ready, on equitable terms, to un- 
dertake the management of it. But, if the Proposers find themselves 
enabled, either on their own credit, or by the assistance of their friends. 
or on a plan of subscription, the mode being devised, and the security 
given by themselves, to become the builders of the Theatre, the interest in 
the building will, in that case, be the property of the Proposers, and they 
will undertake to demand no rent for the performances therein to be ex- 
hibited for the mutual advantage of the two present Theatres. 

" The Proposers will, in this case, conducting the business under the dor- 
mant Patent above mentioned, bind themselves, that no theatrical entertain- 
ments, as plays, farces, pantomimes, or English operas, shall at any time be 
exhibited in this Theatre but for the general advantage of the Proprietors 
of the two other Theatres ; the Proposers reserving to themselves any 
profit they can make of their building, converted to purposes distinct from 
the business of the Theatres. 

•' The Proposers, undertaking the management of the new Theatre, shall 
be entitled to a sum to be settled by the Proprietors at large, or by an 
equitable arbitration. 

'' It is proposed, that all the Proprietors of the two present Theatres 
Royal of Drury-Lane and Covent-Garden shall share all profits from the 
dramatic entertainments exhibited at the new Theatre ; that is, each shall 
be entitled to receive a dividend in proportion to the shares he or she pos- 
sesses of the present Theatres : first only deducting a certain nightly sum 
to be paid to the Proprietors of Covent-Garden Theatre, as a consideration 
for the license furnished by the exercise of their present dormant Patent. 

•' 'Fore Heaven ! the Plan's a good Plan ! I shall add a little Epilogue 
to-morrow. 

" R. B. S."' 
'' 'Tis now too late, and I've a letter to write 
Before I go to bed,— and then. Good Night." 



In the month of July, this year, the Installation of Lord Gren- 
ville, as Chancellor of Oxford, took place, and Mr. Sheridan was 
among the distinguished persons that attended the ceremony. As 

VOL. II. 12 



266 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

a numlDer of honorar degrees were to be conferred on the occa- 
sion, it was expected, as a matter of course, that his name would 
be among those selected for that distinction ; and, to the honor 
of the University, it was the general wish among its leading mem- 
bers that such a tribute should be paid to his high political char 
acter. On the proposal of his name, however, (in a private meet- 
ing, I believe, held previously to the Convocation,) the words 
" Non placet''' were heard from two scholars, one of whom, it is 
said, had no nobler motive for his opposition than that Sheridan 
did not pay his father's tithes very regularly. Several efforts 
were made to win over these dissentients ; and the Rev. Mr. In- 
gram delivered an able and liberal Latin speech, in which he in- 
dignantly represented the shame that it would bring on the Uni- 
'ersity, if such a name as that of Sheridan should be " clam suh- 
duciurri'' from the list. The two scholars, however, were im- 
movable ; and nothing remained but to give Sheridan intimation 
of their intended opposition, so as to enable him to decline the 
honor of having his name proposed. On his appearance, after- 
wards, in the Theatre, a burst of acclamation broke forth, with a 
general cry of " Mr. Sheridan among the- Doctors, — Sheridan 
among the Doctors ;" in compliance with which he was passed 
to the seat occupied by the Honorary Grfiduates, and sat, in un- 
robed distinction, among them, during the whole of the ceremo- 
nial. Few occurrences, of a public nature, ever gave him more 
pleasure than this reception. 

At the close of the year 1810, the malady, with which the king 
had been thrice before afflicted, returned ; and, after the usual 
adjournments of Parliament, it was found necessary to establish 
a Regency. On the question of the second adjournment, Mr. 
Sheridan took a line directly opposed to that of his party, and 
voted with the majority. That in this step he did not act from 
any previous concert with the Prince, appears from the following 
letter, addressed by him to His Royal Highness on the subject, 
and containing particulars which will prepare the mind of the 
reader to judge more clearly of the events that followed . — 



RIGHT HON. KICHAKD BKINSLEY SHERIDAN. 267 
" Sir, 



" I felt infinite satisfaction when I was apprised that Your Royal 
Highness had been far from disapproving the line of conduct I 
had presumed to pursue, on the last question of adjournment in 
the House of Commons. Indeed, I never had a moment's doubt 
but that Your Royal Highness would give me credit that I was 
actuated on that, as I shall on every other occasion through my- 
existence, by no possible motive but the most sincere and un- 
mixed desire to look to Your Royal Highness's honor and true 
interest, as the objects of my political life, — directed, as I am sure 
your efforts will ever be, to the essential interests of the Country 
and the Constitution. To this line of conduct I am prompted by 
every motive of personal gratitude, and confirmed by every op- 
portunity, which peculiar circumstances and long experience have 
afforded me, of judging of your heart and understanding, — to the 
superior excellence of which, (beyond all, I believe, that ever 
stood in your rank and high relation to society,) I fear not to ad- 
vance my humble testimony, because I scruple not to say for 
myself, that I am no flatterer, and that I never foimd that to be- 
come one was the road to vour real regard. 

" I state thus much because it has been under the influence of 
these feelings that I have not felt myself warranted, (without any 
previous communication with Your Royal Highness,) to follow 
implicitly the dictates of others, in whom, however they may be 
my superiors in many qualities, I can subscribe to no superiority 
as to devoted attachment and duteous affection to Your Royal 
Highness, or in that practical knowledge of the public mind and 
character, upon which alone must be built that popular and per- 
sonal estimation of Your Royal Highness, so necessary to your 
future happiness and glory, and to the prosperity of the nation 
you are destined to rule over. 

" On these grounds, I saw no policy or consistency in unneces- 
sarily giving a general sanction to the examination of the physi- 
cians before the Council, and then attempting, on the question of 
adjournment, to hold that examination as naught. On these 
grounds, I have ventured to doubt the wisdom or propriety of 



268 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

anj endeavor, (if any such endeavor has been made,) to in- 
duce Your Royal Highness, during so critical a moment, to 
stir an inch from the strong reserved post you have chosen, or 
give the slightest public demonstration of any future intended 
political preferences ; — convinced as I was that the rule of con- 
duct you had prescribed to yourself was precisely that which 
was gaining you the general heart, and rendering it impractica- 
ble for any quarter to succeed in annexing unworthy conditions to 
that most difficult situation, which you were probably so soon to 
be called on to accept. 

'• I may. Sir, have been guilty of error of judgment in both 
these respects, differing, as I fear I have done, from those whom I 
am bound so highly to respect ; but, at the same time, I deem it 
no presumption to say that, until better mstructed, I feel a strong 
confidence in the justness of my own view of the subject ; and 
simply because of this — I am sure that the decisions of that judg- 
ment, be they sound or mistaken, have not, at least, been rashly 
taken up, but were founded on deliberate zeal for your service 
and glory, unmixed, I will confidently soy, with any one selfish 
object or political purpose of my own." 

The same limitations and restrictions that Mr. Pitt proposed 
in 1789, v>^ere, upon the same principles, adopted by the present 
Minister : nor did the Opposition differ otherwise from their 
former line of argument, than by ommitting altogether that 
claim of Right for the Prince, which Mr. Fox had, in the pro- 
ceedings of 1789, asserted. The event that ensued is sufficiently 
well known. To the surprise of the public, (who expected, per- 
haps, rather than wished, that the Coalesced Party of which Lord 
Grey and Lord Grenville were the chiefs, should now succeed to ' 
power,) Mr. Perceval and his colleagues wero informed by the 
Regent that it w^as the intention of His Royal Highness to con- 
tinue them still in office. 

The share taken by Mr. Sheridan in the transactions that led 
to this decision, is one of those passages of his political life upon 
which the criticism of his own party has been most severely ex 
ercised, and into the details of which I feel most difficulty in en 



P.lGHT HON, RICHAED BETNSLEY SHEEIDAN. 269 

tering : — because, however curious it may be to penetrate into 
these '' postscenia'' of public life, it seems hardly delicate, while 
so many of the chief actors are still upon the stage. As there 
exists, however, a Paper drawn up by Mr. Sheridan, containing 
what he considered a satisfactory defence of his conduct on this 
occasion, I should ill discharge my duty towards his memory, 
were I, from any scruples or predilections of my own, to deprive 
him of the advantage of a statement, on which he appears to 
have relied so confidently for his vindication. 

But, first, — in order fully to understand the whole course of 
feelings and circumstances, by which not only Sheridan, but his 
Royal Master, (for their cause is, in a great degree, identified,) 
were for some time past, predisposed towards the line of con- 
duct which they now pursued, — it will be necessary to recur to a 
ew antecedent events. 

By the death of Mr. Fox the chief persojial tie that connected 
the Heir- Apparent with the party of that statesman was broken. 
The political identity of the party itself had, even before that 
event, been, in a great degree, disturbed by a coalition against 
which Sheridan had always most strongly protested, and to 
which the Prince, there is every reason to believe, was by no 
means friendly. Immediately after the death of Mr. Fox, His 
Royal Highness made known his intentions of withdrawing from 
all personal interference in politics ; and, though still continuing 
his sanction to the remaining Ministry, expressed himself as no 
longer desirous of being considered " a party man."* During 
the short time that these Ministers continued in office, the un- 
derstanding between them and the Prince was by no means of 
that cordial and confidential kind, which had been invariably 
maintained during the life-time of Mr. Fox. On the contrary, 

*Tliis is the phrase used by the Prince himself, in a Letter addressed to a Noble Lord, 
(not long after the dismissal of the Grenville Ministry,) for the purpose of vindicating his 
own character from son e miputations cast upon it, in consequence of an interview which 
he had lately had with the King. This important exposition of the feelings o' His Royal 
Highness, which, more than any thing, throvrs liglu upon his subsequent conduct, was 
dra-WTi up by Sheridan ; and I had hoped that I should liave been able to lay it before tha 
reade." : — but the liberiy of perusing the Letter is all that has been allowed me. 



270 MEMOiKS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

the impression on the mind of His Royal Highness, as well as 
on those of his immediate friends in the Ministry, Lord Moira 
and Mr. Sheridan, was, that a cold neglect had succeeded to the 
confidence with which they had hitherto been treated ; and that, 
neither in their opinions nor feelings, were they any longer suffi- 
ciently consulted or considered. The very measure, by which 
the Ministers ultimate]}^ lost their places, was, it appears, one of 
those w^hich the Illustrious Personage in question neither conceiv- 
ed himself to have been sufficiently consulted upon before its 
adoption, nor approved of afterwards. 

Such were the gradual loosenings of a bond, which at no time 
had promised much permanence ; and such the train of feelings 
and circumstances w^iich, (combining with certain prejudices in 
the Royal mind against one of the chief leaders of the party,) 
prepared the way for that result by which the Public was sur- 
prised in 1811, and the private details of which I shall now, as 
briefly as possible, relate. 

As soon as the Bill for regulating the office of Regent had 
passed the two Houses, the Prince, who, till then, had maintained 
a strict reserve with respect to his intentions, signified, through 
Mr. Adam, his pleasure that Lord Grenville should wait upon 
him. He then, in the most gracious manner, expressed to that 
Noble Lord his wish that he should, in conjunction with Lord 
Grey, prepare the Answer which his Royal Highness was, m a 
few days, to return to the Address of the Houses. The same 
confidential task was entrusted also to Lord Moira, with an ex- 
pressed desire that he should consult with Lord Grey and Lord 
Grenville on the subject. But tliis co-operation, as I understand, 
the two Noble Lords declined. 

One of the embarrassing consequences of Coalitions now ap- 
peared. The recorded opinions of Lord Grenville on the Regen- 
cy Question differed wholly and in principle not only from those 
of liis coadjutor in this task, but from those of the Royal person 
himself, whose sentiments he was called upon to interpret. In 
this difficulty, the only alternative that remained was so to neu- 
tralize the terms of the Answer upon the great point of differ- 



HraHr ho:n". righakd brinsley siieIiiDan-. 2?1 

ence, as to preserve the consistency of the Eoyal ipeaker, with- 
out at the same time compromising that of his iVoble adviser. 
It required, of course, no small art and delic .cy thus to throw 
into the shade that distinctive opinion of Whigism, which Burke 
had clothed in his imperishable language in 1789, and which Fox 
had solemnly bequeathed to the Party, when 

^' in bis upward flight 
, He left his mantle there.''* 

The Answer, drawn up by the Noble Lords, did not, it must 
be confessed, surmount this difficulty very skilfully. The asser- 
tion of the Prince's consistency was confined to two meagre sen- 
tences, in the first of which His Royal Highness was made to 
say : — " With respect to the proposed limitation of the authority 
to be entrusted to me, I retain my former opinion :" — and in 
the other, the expression of any decided opinion upon the Consti- 
tutional point is thus evaded : — " For such a purpose no restraint 
can be necessary to be imposed upon m.e." Somewhat less vague 
and evasive, however, was the justification of the opinion opposed 
to that of the Prince, in the following sentence : — '' That day- 
when I may restore to the King those powers, which as helonging 
mly to hiw^\ are in his name and in his behalf," &;c. &c. This, 
it will be recollected, is precisely the doctrine which, on the great 
question of limiting the Prerogative, Mr. Fox attributed to the 
Tories. In another passage, the Whig opinion of the Prince was 
thus tam.ely surrendered : — " Conscious that, whatever degree of 
confidence you may thinlc fit to repose in me," &:c.J 

The Answer, thus constructed, was, by the two Noble Lords, 
transmitted through Mr. Adam, to the Prince, who, " strongly 
objecting, (as we are told), to almost every part of it," acceded 

* Joanna Baillie. 

f The words which I have put in italics in Ihpse quotations, are. m the same manner, 
underlined in Sheridan's copy of the Paper, — doubtless, from a similar viev/ of their im- 
port to that which I have taken. 

X On the back o( Sheridan's own copy of this Answer, I find, written by him, the fol- 
lowing words : " Grenville's and Grey's proposed Answer from the Prince to the Address 
of the two Houses ; — ve y flimsy, and attempting to cover Grenville's conduct and cou- 
sistenf'y in sai»portmg the present Restrictions at the expense of the Prince.." 



272 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THii 

to the suggestion of Sheridan, whom he consulted on the subject, 
that a new form of Answer should be immediately sketched out, 
and submitted to the consideration of Lord Grey and Lord 
Grenville. There was no time to be lost, as the Address of the 
Houses was to be received the following day. Accordingly, Mr. 
Adam and Mr. Sheridan proceeded that night, with the new draft 
of the Answer to HolUmd-House, where, after a warm discussion 
upon the subject with Lord Grey, which ended unsatisfactorily to 
both parties, the final result was that the Answer drawn up by 
the Prince and Sheridan was adopted. — Such is the bare outline 
of this transaction, the circumstances of which will be found fully 
detailed in the Statement that shall presently be given. 

The accusation against Sheridan is, that chiefly to his under- 
mining influence the viev/ taken by the Prince of the Paper of 
these Noble Lords is to be attributed ; and that not only was he 
censurable in a constitutional point of view, for thus interfering 
between the Sovereign and his responsible advisers, but that he 
had been also guilty of an act of private perfidy, in endeavoring 
to represent the Answer drawn up by these Noble Lords, as an 
attempt to sacrifice the consistency and dignity of their Royal 
Master to the compromise of opinions and principles which they 
had entered into themselves. 

Under the impression that such were the nature and motives 
of his interference. Lord Grey and Lord Grenville, on the 11th 
of January, (the day on which the Answer substituted for their 
own was delivered), presented a joint Representation to the Re- 
gent, in which they stated that " the circumstances which had 
occurred, respecting His Royal Highness's Answer to the two 
Houses, had induced them, most humbly, to solicit permission to 
submit to His Royal Highness the following considerations, with 
the undisguised sincerity which the occasion seemed to require, 
but, with every expression that could best convey their respectfuj 
duty and inviolable att^achment. When His Royal Highness, 
(they continued), did Lord Grenville the honor, through Mr. 
Adam, to command his attendance, it was distinctly expressed to 
him, that His Roval Highness had condescended to select him. 



felGHT HON. RiCHABt) BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 278 

in conjunction with Lord Grey, to be consulted with, fis the pub- 
lic and responsible advisers of that Answer ; and Lord Grenville 
could never forget the gracious terms in which His Eoyal High- 
ness had the goodness to lay these his orders upon him. It was 
also on the same grounds of public and responsible advice, that 
Lord Grey, honored in like manner by the most gracious expres- 
sion of His T^oyal Highness's confidence on this subject, applied 
himself to the consideration of it conjointly with Lord Grenville. 
They could not but feel the difficulty of the undertaking, which 
required them to reconcile two objects essentially different, — to 
uphold and distiifctly to manifest that unshakmi adherence to His 
Royal Highness's past and present opinion, which consistency 
and honor required, but to conciliate, at the same time, the feel- 
ings of the two Houses, by expressions of confidence and affec- 
tion, and to lay the foundation of that good understanding be- 
tween His Royal Highness and the Parliament, the establish- 
ment of which must be the first w^ish of every man w^ho is truly 
attached to His Royal Highness, and w^ho knows the value of the 
Constitution of his country. Lord Grey and Lord Grenville were 
far from the presumption of believing that their humble endea- 
vors for the execution of so difficult a task might not be suscep- 
tible of many and great amendments. 

" The draft, (their Lordships said), which they humbly sub- 
mitted to His Royal Highness was considered by them as open 
to every remark w^hich might occur to His Royal Highness's 
better judgment. On every occasion, but more especially in the 
preparation of His Royal Highness's first act of government, it 
would have been no less their desire than their duty to have 
profited by all such objections, and to have labored to accom- 
plish, in the best manner they were able, every command which 
His Royal Highness might have been pleased to lay upon them. 
Upon the objects to be obtained there could be no difference of 
sentiment. These, such as above described, were, they confi- 
dently believed, not less important in His Royal Highness's view 
of the subject than in that w^hich they themselves had ventured 
to express. But they would be wanting in that sincerity and 

VOL. II. 12 ^ 



274 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF l^flii 

openness by which they could alone hope, however impcrfectlj, 
to make any return to that gracious confidence with which His 
Royal Highness had condescended to honor them, if they sup- 
pressed the expression of their deep concern, in finding that their 
humble endeavors in His Royal Highness's service had been sub- 
mitted to the judgment of another person, by whose advice His 
Royal Highness had been guided in his final decision, on a mat- 
ter on which they alone had, however unworthily, been honored 
witli His Royal Highness's commands. It was their most 
sincere and ardent wish that, in the arduous station which His 
Royal Highness was about to fill, he might have the benefit of 
the public advice and responsible services of those men, whoever 
they might be, by whom His Royal Highness's glory and the 
interests of the country could best be promoted. It would be 
with unfeigned distrust of their own means of discharging such 
duties that they could, in any case, venture to undertake them ; 
and, in this humble but respectful representation which they had 
presumed to make of their feelings on this occasion, they were 
conscious of being actuated not less by their dutiful and grateful 
attachment to His Royal Highness, than by those principles of 
constitutional responsibility, the maintenance of which they 
deemed essential to any hope of a successful administration of 
the public interests." 

On receiving this Representation, in which, it must be con- 
fessed, there was more of high spirit and dignity than of worldly 
wisdom,* His Royal Highness lost no time in communicating it 

* To the pure and dignified character of the Noble Whig- associated in this P.emon- 
Btrance, it is unnecessary for me to say how heartily I bear testimony. The only fault, 
indeed, of this distinguished person is. that, knowing but one high course of conduct for 
himself, he impatiently resents any sinking irom that pilch in others. Then, only, in his 
true station, when placed between the People and the Crown, as one of those fortresses 
that ornament and defend the frontier of Democracy, he has shown that he can but ill 
suit the dimensions of his spirit to the narrow avenues of a Court, or, like that Pope whc 
stooped to look for the keys of St. Peter, accon^smodalehis natural elevation to the pursuit 
of official power. All the pliancy of liis nature is, indeed, reserved for private life, "where 
the repose of the valley succeeds to, the grandeur of the mountain, and whfre the lofty 
statesman gracefully subades into the gentle husband and father, and the frank, social 
friend. 

The eloquence of Ix)rd Grey more Uian that of any other peison, brings to mind what 



RIGHT HOIT. HICHARD BRlNSLEY SHERIDAjST. 275 

to Sheridan, who, proud of the irifluence attributed to him by the 
Noble writers, and now more than ever stimulated to make them 
feel its weight, employed the whole force of his shrewdness and 
ridicule* in exposing the stately tone of dictation which, accord- 
ing to his view, was assumed throughout this Paper, and in 
picturing to the Prince the state of tutelage he might expect un- 
der Ministers who began thus early with their lectures. Such 
suggestions, even if less ably urged, were but too sure of a wil- 
ling audience in ihe ears to W'hich they were addressed. Shortly 
after. His Royal Highness paid a visit to Windsor, where the 
Queen and another Royal Personage completed what had been 
so skilfully begun ; and the important resolution w^as forthwith 
taken to retain Mr. Perceval and his colleagues in the Ministry. 
I shall now give the Statement of the whole transaction, which 
Mr. Sheridan thought it necessary to address, in his own defence, 
to Lord Holland, and of which a rough and a fair copy have been 
found carefully preserved among his papers : — 

Queen- Street, January 15, 1811. 
"Dear Holland, 

" As you have been already apprised by His Royal Highness 
the Prince that he thought it becoming the frankness of his char- 
acter, and consistent with the fairness and openness of proceeding 
due to any of his servants whose conduct appears to have incur- 
red the disapprobation of Lord Grey and Lord Grenville, to com- 
municate their representations on the subject to the person so 

Quinlilian says of the great and noble orator, Messala :—" QuodaTnmvdo prce deferens in 
dicendo nohilitatem suam.^' 

* He called rhymes also to his aid, as appears by the following : — 

*' An Address to the Prince, 1811. 
" In all humility we crave 
Our Regent may become our slave, 
And being so, we trust that Hs 
'Will than'^ us for our loyalty. 
Then, if he'll help us to pufl down 
His Father's dignity and Crown, 
We'll make him, in some time to conift, 
The greatest Prince in Christendom." 



276 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

censured, I am confident you will give me credit for the pain 1 
must have felt, to find myself an object of suspicion, or likely, in 
the slightest degree, to become the cause of any temporary mis- 
understanding between His Royal Highness and those distin- 
guished characters, whom His Royal Highness appears to destine 
to those responsible situations, which must in all public matters 
entitle them to his exclusive confidence. 

" I shall as briefly as I can state the circumstances of the fact, 
so distinctly referred to in the following passage of the Noble 
Lord's Representation : — 

" ' But they would be wanting in that sincerity and openness 
by which they can alone hope, however imperfectly, to make any 
return to that gracious confidence with which Your Royal High- 
ness has condescended to honor them, if they suppressed the ex- 
pression of their deep concern in finding that their humble endea^- 
vors in Your Roval Hicrhness's service have been submitted to 
the judgment of another person, hy whose advice Your Royal 
Highness has been guided in your final decision on a matter in 
which they alone had, however unworthily, been honored with 
Your Royal Highness's commands.' 

" I must premise, that from my first intercourse with the Prince 
during the present distressing emergency, such conversations as 
he may have honored me with have been communications of re- 
solutions already formed on his part, and not of matter referred 
to consultation or submitted to advice. I know that my declin- 
ing to vote for the further adjournment of the Privy Council's 
examination of the physicians gave offence to some, and was con- 
sidered as a difference from the party I was rightly esteemed to 
belong to. The intentions of the leaders of the party upon that 
question were in no way distinctly knovm to me ; my secession 
was entirely my own act, and not only unauthorized, but perhaps 
unexpected by the Prince. My motives for it I took the liberty 
of communicating to His Royal Highness by letter,* the next 
day, and, previously to that, I had not even seen His Royal 
Highness since the confirmation of His Majesty's malady. 

* Tliis Letter has been given in page 268. 



RIGHT HON. KICHARD BRIJSSLEY SHEIIIDAN. 277 

" If I differed from those who, equally attached to His Royal 
ITighness's interest and honor, thought that His Royal Highness 
should have taken the step which, in my humble opinion, he has 
since, precisely at the proper period, taken of sending to Lord 
Grenville and Lord Grey, I may certainly have erred in forming 
an imperfect judgment on the occasion, but, in doing so, I meant 
no disrespect to those who had taken a different view^ of the sub- 
ject. But, wdth all deference, I cannot avoid adding, that expe- 
rience of the impression made on the public mind by the re- 
served and retired conduct which the Prince thought proper to 
adopt, has not shaken my opinion of the wisdom which prompted 
him to that determination. But here, again, I declare, that I 
must reject the presumption that any suggestion of mine led to 
the rule w^hich the Prince had prescribed to himself My know- 
ledge of it being, as I before said, the comxmunication of a reso- 
lution formed on the part of His Royal Highness, and not of a 
proposition awaiting the advice, countenance, or corroboration, of 
any other person. Having thought it necessary to premise thus 
much, as I wish to write to you without reserve or concealment 
of any sort, I shall as briefly as I can relate the facts which at- 
tended the composing the Answer itself, as far as I was con- 
cerned. 

" On Sunday, or on Monday the 7th instant, I mentioned to 
Lord Moira, or to Adam, that the Address of the two Houses 
would come very quickly upon the Prince, and that he should 
be prepared with his Answer, without entertaining the least idea 
of meddling with the subject myself, having received no autho- 
rity from His Royal Highness to do so. Either Lord Moira or 
Adam informed me, before I left Carlton-House, that His Royal 
Highness had directed Lord Moira to sketch an outline of the 
Answer proposed, and I left town. On Tuesday evening it 
occurred to me to try at a sketch also of the intended reply. 
On Wednesday morning I read it, at Carlton-House, very hastily 
to Adam, before I saw the Prince. And here I must pause to 
declare, that I have entirely withdrawn from my mind any doubt, 
if for a moment I ever entertained any, of the perfect propriety 



278 MEMOIKS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

of Adam's conduct at that hurried interview ; being also long 
convinced, as well from intercourse with him at Carlton-House 
as in every transaction I have witnessed, that it is impossible for 
him to act otherwise than with the most entire sincerity and 
honor towards all he deals with. I then read the Paper I had 
put together to the Prince, — the most essential part of it literally 
consisting of sentiments and expressions, which had fallen from 
the Prince himself in different conversations ; and I read it to him 
without having once heard Lord Grenmlle's name even mentioned 
as in any way connected with the Answer proposed to be sub- 
mitted to the Prince. On the contrary, indeed, I was under an 
impression that the framing this Answer was considered as the 
single act which it would be an unfair and embarrassing task to 
require the performance of from Lord Grenville. The Prince 
approved the Paper I read to him, objecting, however, to some 
additional paragraphs of my own, and altering others. In the 
course of his observations, he cursorily mentioned that Lord 
Grenville had undertaken to sketch out his idea of a proper 
Answer, and that Lord Moira had done the same, — evidently 
expressing himself, to my apprehension, as not considering the 
framing of this Answer as a matter of official responsibility any 
where, but that it was his intention to take the choice and deci- 
sion respecting it on himself If, however, I had known, before I 
entered the Prince's apartment, that Lord Grenville and Lord 
Grey had in any way undertaken to frame the Ansv/er, and had 
thought themselves authorized to do so, I protest the Prince 
would never even have heard of the draft which I had prepared, 
though containing, as I before said, the Prince's own ideas. 

" His Royal Highness having laid his commands on Adam 
and me to dine with him alone on the next day, Thursday, I then, 
for the first time, learnt that Lord Grey and Lord Grenville had 
ti'ansmitted, through Adam, a formal draft of an Answer to be 
submitted to the Prince. 

" Under these circumstances I thought it became me humbly 
to request the Prince not to refer to me, in any respect, the 
Paper of the Noble Lords, oi to insist even on my hearing its 



KIGHT HON. KICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 279 

contents ; but that I might be permitted to put the draft he had 
received from me into the fire. The Prince, however, who had 
read the Noble Lords' Paper, declining to hear of this, proceeded 
to state, how strongly he objected to almost every part of it. 
The draft delivered by Adam he took a copy of himself, as Mr. 
Adam read it, affixing shortly, but w^armly, his comments to each 
paragi^aph. Finding His Royal Highness's objections to the 
whole radical and insuperable, and seeing no means myself by 
which the Noble Lords could change their .draft, so as to meet 
the Prince's ideas, I ventured to propose, as the only expedient 
of which the time allow^ed, that both the Papers should be laid 
aside, and that a very short Answer, indeed, keeping clear of all 
topics liable to disagreement, should be immediately sketched 
out and be submitted that night to the judgment of Lord Grey 
and Lord Grenville. The lateness of the hour prevented any but 
very hasty discussion, and Adam and myself proceeded, by His 
Royal Highness's orders, to your house to relate what had passed 
to Lord Grey. I do not mean to disguise, however, that when I 
found myself bound to give my opinion, I did fully assent to the 
force and justice of the Prince's objections, and made other ob- 
servations of my own, which I thought it my duty to do, con- 
ceiving, as I freely said, that the Paper could not have been 
drawn up but under the pressure of embarrassing difficulties, and, 
as I conceived also, in considerable haste. 

" Before we left Carlton-House, it was agreed between Adam 
and myself that we were not so strictly enjoined by the Prince, 
as to make it necessary for us to communicate to the Noble 
Lords the marginal comments of the Prince, and we determined 
to witliliold the^. But at the meeting with Lord Grey, at your 
house, he appeared to me, erroneously perhaps, to decline con- 
sidering the objections as coming from the Prince, but as origi- 
nating in my suggestions. L^pon this, I certainly called on Adam 
to produce the Prince's copy, with his notes, in His Royal High- 
ness's own hand-writinfy. 

'^ Afterwards, finding myself considerabl}^ hurt at an expres- 
sion of Lord Grey's, w^hich could only be pointed at me, and 



280 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

which expressed his opinion that the whole of the Paper, which 
he assumed me to be responsible for, was ' drawn up in an 
invidious spirit,' I certainly did, with more warmth than was, 
perhaps, discreet, comme. .t on the Paper proposed to be substi- 
tuted ; and there ended, with no good effect, our interview. 

" Adam and I saw the Prince again that night, when His Royal 
Highness was graciously pleased to meet our joint and earnest 
request, by striking out from the draft of the Answer, to which 
he still resolved to adhere, every passage which we conceived to 
be most liable to objection on the part of Lord Grey and Lord 
Grenville. 

" On the next morning, Friday, — a short time before he was 
to receive the Address, — when Adam returned from the Noble 
Lords, with their expressed disclaimer of the preferred Answer, 
altered as it was. His Royal Highness still persevered to eradi- 
cate • every remaining w^ord which he thought might yet appear 
exceptionable to them, and made further alterations, although 
the fair copy of the paper had been made out. 

" Thus the Answer, nearly reduced to the expression of the 
Prince's own suggestions, and without an opportunity of farther 
meeting the wishes of the Noble Lords, was delivered bv His 
Royal Highness, and presented by the Deputation of the two 
Houses. 

" I am ashamed to have been thus prolix and circumstantial, 
upon a matter which may appear to have admitted of much 
shorter explanation ; but when misconception has produced dis- 
trust among those, I hope, not willingly disposed to differ, and, 
who can have, I equally trust, but one common object m view 
in their different stations, I know no better way than by minute- 
ness and accuracy of detail to remove whatever may have ap- 
peared doubtful in conduct, while unexplained, or inconsistent in 
principle not clearly re-asserted. 

" x\nd now, my dear Lord, I have only shortly to express my 
own personal mortification, I will use no other word, that I should 
have been considered by any persons however high in rank, or 
iiistly entitled to high political pretensions, as one so little 



RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 281 

' attached to His Royal Highness,' or so ignorant of the value 
' of the Constitution of his country,' as to be held out to Him, 
whose fairly-earned esteem I regard as the first honor and the 
sole reward of my political life, in the character of an interested 
contriver of a double government, and, in some measure, as an 
apostate from all my former principles, — which have taught me, 
as well as the Noble Lords, that ' the maintenance of conslilu- 
tional responsibility in the ministers of the Crown is essential to 
any hope of success in the administration of the public interest.' 
"At the same time, I am most ready to admit that it could 
not be their intention so to characterize me ; but it is the direct 
inference which others must gather from the first paragraph I have 
quoted from their Representation, and an inference which, 1 under- 
stand, has already been raised in public opinion. A departure, my 
dear Lord, on my part, from upholding tjie principle declared by 
the Noble Lords, much more a presumptuous and certainly in- 
effectual attempt to inculcate a contrary doctrine on the mind of 
the Prince of Wales, would, I am confident, lose me every particle 
of his flxvor and confidence at once and for ever. But I am yet 
to learn w^hat part of my past public life, — and I challenge ob- 
servation on every part of my present proceedings, — has war- 
ranted the adoption of any such suspicion of me, or the expression 
of any such imputation against me. But I will dwell no longer 
on this point, as it relates only to m.y own feelings and character ; 
which, however, I am the more bound to consider, as others, in 
my humble judgment, have so hastily disregarded both. At the 
same time, I do sincerely declare, that no personal disappoint- 
ment in my own mind interferes with the respect and esteem I 
entertain for Lord Grenville, or in addition to those sentiments, 
the friendly regard I owe to Lord Grey. To Lord Grenville I 
have the honor to be but very little personally known. From 
Lord Grey, intimately acquainted as he was with every circum- 
stance of my conduct and principles in the years 1788-9, I con- 
fess I should have expected a very tardy and reluctant interpre- 
tation of any circumstance to my disadvantage. What the 
nature of my endeavors were at that time, I have the written 



282 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

testimonies of Mr. Fox and the Duke of Portland. To jou I 
know those testimonies are not necessary, and perhaps it has been 
my recollection of what passed in those times that may have led 
me too securely to conceive myself above the reach even of a 
suspicion that I could adopt different principles now. Such as 
they were they remain untouched and unaltered. I conclude 
with sincerely declaring, that to see the Prince meeting the re- 
ward which his own honorable nature, his kind and generous 
disposition, and his genuine devotion to the true objects of our 
free Constitution so well entitle him to, by being surrounded and 
supported by an Administration affectionate to his person, and 
ambitious of gaining and meriting his entire esteem, (yet tena- 
cious, above all things, of the constitutional principle, that exclu- 
sive confidence must attach to the responsibility of those whom 
he selects to be his public servants,) I would with heartfelt satis- 
faction rather be a looker on of such a Governm^ent, giving it 
such humble support as might be in my powder, than be the 
possessor of any possible situation either of profit or ambition; 
to be obtained by any indirectness, or by the slightest departure 
from the principles I have always professed, and which I have 
now felt myself in a manner called upon to re-assert. 

" I have only to add, that my respect for the Prince, and my 
sense of the frankness he has shown towards me on this occasion, 
decide me, with all duty, to submit this letter to his perusal, be- 
fore I place it in your hands; meaning it undoubtedly to be by 
. you show^n to those to whom your judgment may deem it of any 
consequence to communicate it. 

" 1 have the honor to be, &c. 

" To Lord Holland, (Signed) '' R. B. Sheridan. 

"Read and approved by the Prince, January 20, 1811. 

"R.B.S." 

Though this Statement, it must be recollected, exhibits but 
one side of the question, and is silent as to the part that Sheridan 
took after the delivery of the Remonstrance of the two noble 
Jjords, yet, combined with preceding events and with the insight 



EIGHT HOX EICHAED BK1^'SLEY SHER1DA:N'. 283 

into motives which they afford, it may sufficiently enable the 
reader to form his own judgment, with respect to the conduct of 
the ditferent persons concerned in the transaction. With the 
better and more ostensible motives of Sheridan, there was, no 
doubt, some mixture of, what the Platonists call, " the material 
alluvion" of our nature. His political repugnance to the Co- 
alesced Leaders would have been less strong but for the personal 
feelirigs that mingled with it ; and his anxiety that the Prince 
should not be dictated to by othei-s was at least equalled by his 
vanity in showhig that he could govern him himself. But, whatever 
were the precise views that impelled him to this trial of strength, 
the Wctory which he gained in it was far more extensive than he 
himself had either foreseen or wished. He had meant the party 
to fed his power, — not to sink under it. Though privately 
alienated from them, on personal as well as political grounds, he 
knew that, -publicly he was too much identified w^ith their ranks, 
ever to serve, with credit or consistency, in any other. He had, 
therefore, in the ardor of undermining, carried the ground from 
beneath his own feet. In helping to disband his party, he had 
cashiered himself; and there remained to him now, for the 
residue of his days, but that frailest of all sublunary treasures, a 
Prince's friendship. 

With this conviction, (which, m spite of all the sanguineness 
of his disposition, could hardly have failed to force itself on his 
mind,) it was not, we should think, with very self-gratulatory 
feelings that he undertook the task, a few weeks after, of indit- 
ing, for the Eegent, that memorable Letter to Mr. Perceval, 
which sealed the fate at once both of his party and himself, and 
whatever false signs of re-animation may afterwards have ap 
peared, severed the last life-lock by which the " stinigglmg spirit"* 
of this friendship between -Royalty and Whiggism still held : — 

'' d/^xtra cri7iem secatj omnis et una 



Dilapsus calor, atque in ventos vita recessitJ'^ 
With respect to the chief Personage connected with thestj 

* JjuclQ/ns anitna, ^ 



284 MEMOIES OF THE LIFE OF THE 

transactions, it is a proof of the tendency of knowledge, to pre- 
duce a spirit of tolerance, that they who, judging merely from 
the surface of events, have been most forward in reprobating his 
separation from the Whigs, as a rupture of political ties and an 
abandonment of private friendships, must, on becoming more 
thoroughly acquainted with all the circumstances that led to this 
crisis, learn to soften down considerably their angry feelings ; 
and to see, indeed, in the whole history of the connection, — from 
its first formation, in the hey-day of youth and party, to its faint 
survival after the death of Mr. Fox, — but a natural and destined 
gradation towards the result at which it at last arrived, after as 
much fluctuation of political principle, on one side, as there was 
of indifference, perhaps, to all political principle on the other. 

Among the arrangements that had been made, in contempla- 
tion of a new Ministry, at this time, it was intended that Lord 
Moira should go, as Lord Lieutenant, to Ireland, and that Mr. 
Sheridan should accompany him, as Chief Secretary. 



RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 285 



CHAPTER XL 

AFFAIRS OF THE NEW THEATRE. — MR. WHITBREAD. — 
NEGCTIATIONS WITH LORD GREY AND LORD GREN- 
VILLE. — CONDUCT OF MR. SHERIDAN RELATIVE TO THE 
HOUSEHOLD. — HIS LAST WORDS IN PARLIAMENT. — 
FAILURE AT STAFFORD. — CORRESPONDENCE WITH MR. 
WHITBREAD. — LORD BYRON. — DISTRESSES OF SHERIDAN. 
— ILLNESS. — DEATH AND FUNERAL. — GENERAL RE- 
MARKS. 

It was not till the close of this year that the Reports of the 
Coramittee appointed under the Act for rebuilding the Theatre 
of Drury-Lane, were laid before the public. By these it appeared 
that Sheridan was to receive, for his moiety of the property, 
24,000/., out of which sum the claims of the Linley family and 
others were to be satisfied ; — that a further sum of 4000/. was to 
be paid to him for the property of the Fruit Offices and Rever- 
sion of Boxes and Shares; — and that his son, Mr. Thomas 
Sheridan, was to receive, for his quarter of the Patent Property, 
12,000/. 

The gratitude that Sheridan felt to Mr. Whitbread at first, for 
the kindness with which he undertook this most arduous task, 
did not long remain unembittered when they entered into prac- 
tical details. It would be difficult indeed to find two persons 
less likely to agree in a transaction of this nature, — the one, in 
affairs of business, approaching almost as near to the extreme of 
rigor as the other to that of laxity. While Sheridan, too, — like 
those painters, who endeavor to disguise their ignorance of anat- 
omy by an indistinct find furzy outline, — had an imposing method 
of generalizing his accounts and statements, which, to most eyes, 



286 MEMOIRS OF I'HE LIFE OF TEfS 

concealed the negligence and fallacy of the details, Mr. Whit 
bread, on the contrary, with an unrelenting accuracy, laid open 
the minutiae of every transaction, and made evasion as impossible 
to others, as it was alien and inconceivable to himself He was, 
perhaps, the only person, whom Sheridan had ever found proof 
against his powers of persuasion, — and this rigidity naturally 
mortified his pride full as much as it thwarted and disconcerted 
his views. 

Among the conditions to which he agreed, in order to facilitate 
the arrangements of the Committee, the most painful to him was 
that which stipulated that he, himself, should " have no concern 
or connection, of any kind whatever, with the new undertaking." 
This concession, however, he, at first, regarded as a mere matter 
of form — feeling confident that; even without any effort of his 
own, the necessity under which the new Committee would find 
themselves of recurring to his advice and assistance, would, ere 
long, reinstate him in all his former influence. But in this hope 
he was. disappointed — his exclusion from all concern in the new 
Theatre, (which, it is said, was made a s'lne-qua-non by all who 
embarked in it,) was inexorably enforced by Whitbread; and 
the following letter addressed by him to the latter will show the 
state of their respective feelings on this point : — 

"My dear Whitbread, 

" I am not going to write you a controversial or even an argu- 
mentative letter, but simply to put down the heads of a few 
matters which I wish shortly to converse with you upon, in the 
most amicable and temperate manner, deprecating the im 
patience which may sometimes have mixed in our discussions 
and not contending who has been the aggressor. 

" The main point you seem to have had so much at heart you 
have carried, so there is an end of that ; and I shall as fairly and 
cordially endeavor to advise and assist Mr. Benjamin Wyatt in 
the improving and perfecting his plan as if it had been my own 
preferable selection, assuming, as I must do, that there cannot 
exist an individual in England so presumptuous or so void of 



felGHT UON. HtCilAIiD BRINSLEY SSEKIDAN. 28? 

common sense as not sincerely to solicit the aid of my practical 
experience on this occasion, even were I not, in justice to the 
Subscribers, bound spontaneously to offer it. 

'' But it would be unmanly dissimulation in me to retain the 
sentiments I do with respect to your doctrine on this subject, and 
not express what I so strongly feel. That doctrine was, to my 
utter astonishment, to say no more, first promulgated to me in 
a letter from you, written in town, in the following terms. 
Speaking of building and plans, you say to me, ' You are in no 
way ansivercihle if a had Theatre is built : it is not you who built 
it ; and if we come to (he strict right of the thing ^ you have no 
BUSINESS TO INTERFERE ;' aiid further on you say, ' Will you 
hut STAND ALOOF, and every thing loill go smooth^ and a good 
Theatre shall be built ;' and in conversation you put, as a simi- 
lar case, that, ' if a man sold another a piece of land, it was no- 
thing to the seller whether the purchaser huili himself a good or a 
had house upon it.'' Now I declare before God I never felt more 
amazement than that a man of your powerful intellect, just view 
of all subjects, and knowledge of the world, should hold such 
language or resort to such arguments ; and I must be convinced, 
that, although in an impatient moment this opinion may have 
fallen, from you, upon the least reflection or the slightest attention 
to the reason of the case, vou would, ' albeit unused to the re- 
tracting mood,' confess the erroneous view you had taken of the 
subject. Otherwise, I must think, and with the deepest regret 
would it be, that although you originally engaged in this business' 
from motives of the purest and kindest regard for me and my 
family, your ardor and zealous eagerness to accomplish the diffi- 
cult task you had undertaken have led you, in this instance, to 
overlook what is due to my feelings, to my honor, and my just 
interests. For, supposing I were to ' stand aloof ^^ totally uncon- 
cerned, provided I were paid for my share, whether the new 
Theatre were excellent or execrable, and that the result should 
be that the Subscribers, instead of profit, could not, through the 
misconstruction of tne house, obtain one per cent, for their mo- 
nev, do vou seriouslv believe vou could find a sinsle man, wo- 



238 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

man, or child, in the kingdom, out of the Committee, who would 
believe that I was wholly guiltless of the failure, having been so 
stultified and proscribed by the Committee, (a Committee of my 
own nomination.) as to have been compelled to admit, as the 
condition of my being paid for my share, that ' it was nothing to 
me whether the Theatre was good or bad V or, on the contrary 
can it be denied that the reproaches of disappointment, through 
the great body o£ the Subscribers, would be directed against me 
and me alone ? 

''So much as to character: — now as to my feelings on the 
subject ; — I must say that in friendship, at least, if not in ' strict 
right ^^ they ought to be consulted, even though the Committee 
could either prove that I had not to apprehend any share in the 
discredit and discontent which might follow the ill success of their 
plan, or that 1 was entitled to brave whatever malice or ignorance 
might direct against me. Next, and lastly, as to my just inter- 
est in the property I am to part with, a consideration to which, 
however careless I might be were I alone concerned, I am bound 
to attend in justice to my own private creditors, observe how 
the matter stands : — I agree to waive my own ' strict right'' to be 
paid before the funds can be applied to the building, and this in 
the confidence and on the continued understanding, that my ad- 
vice should be so far respected, that, even should the subscrip- 
tion not fill, I should at least see a Theatre capable of being 
charged with and ultimately of dischai^ging what should remain 
justly due to the proprietors. To illustrate this I refer to the 
size of the pit, the number of private boxes, and the annexation 
of a tavern; but in what a situation would the doctrine of your 
Committee leave me and my son ? ' It is nothing to us how the 
Tlieatre is built, or whether it prospers or not.' These are two 
circumstances we have nothing to do with; only, unfortunately, 
upon them may depend our best chance of receiving any pay- 
ment for the property we part with. It is nothing to us how 
the ship is refitted or manned, only we must leave all we are 
worth on board her, and abide the chance of her success. Now 
I am confident your justice will see, that iu order that the Com 



lilGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 289 

tnittee should, in ^strict riffht^' become entitled to deal ihu6 
With us, and bid us stand aloof ^ they should buy us out, and 
make good the payment. But the reverse of this has been my 
own proposal, and I neither repent nor wish to make any 
orange in it. 

'• I have totally departed from my intention, when I first be- 
gar this letter, for which I ought to apologize to you ; but it may 
save much future talk : other less important matters will do in 
conversation. You will allow that I have placed in you the most 
implicit confidence — have the reasonable trust in mie that, in any 
communication I may have with B. Wyatt, my object v/ill not be 
to obstruct^ as you have hastily expressed it, but bond fide to assist 
him to render his Theatre as perfect as possible, as well with a 
view to the public accommodation as to profit to the Subscribers ; 
neither of which can be obtained without establishing a repu- 
tation for him which nmst be the basis of his future fortune. 

'•'- And now, after all this statement, you will perhaps be sur- 
prised to find how little I require ; — simply some Resolution of 
the Committee to the effect of that I enclose. 

" I conclude with heartily thanking you for the declaration you 
made respecting me, and reported to me by Peter Moore, at the 
close of the last meeting of the Gommittee. I am convinced of 
your sincerity ; but as I have before described the character of 
the gratitude 1 feel tow\"irds you in a letter written likewise in 
this house, I have only to say, that every sentiment in that letter 
remains unabated and unalterable. 

'' Ever, my dear WhI thread, 

"Yours, faithfully. 

" P. S. The discussion we had yesterday respecting some invesri 
gation of the j'MSt^ which I deem so essential to my character and 
to my peace of mind, and your present concurrence with me oii 
that subject, has relieved my mind from great anxiety, though 
i cannot but still think the better opportunity has been passed 
by. One word more, and I release you. Tom informed me 
that you had hinted to him that any demands, not practicable to 
l)e settled by the Committee, m.ust fail on tne proprietors. M;y 

VOL. TI. 38 



290 MEMoIkS of the life of TB\t 

resolution is to take all such on myself, and to leave Tom's share 
untouched." 

Another concession, which Sheridan himself had volunteered, 
namely, the postponement of his right of being paid the amount 
of his claim, till after the Theatre should be built, was also a 
subject of much acrimonious discussion between the two friends, 
— Sheridan applying to this condition that sort of lax interpre!;- 
ation, which would have left him. the credit of the sacrifice with- 
out its inconvenience, and Whitbread, with a firmness of grasp, 
to which, unluckily, the other had been unaccustomed in business^ 
holding him to the strict letter of his voluntary agreement wdth 
the Subscribers. Never, indeed, was there a more melancholy 
example than Sheridan exhibited, at this moment, of the lastj 
hard struggle of pride and delicacy against the most deadly foe 
of both, pecuniary involvement, — which thus gathers round its 
victims, fold after fold, till they are at length crushed in its inex- 
tricable clasp. 

The mere likelihood of a sum of money being placed at his 
disposal w^as sufficient — like the " bright day that brings forth the 
adder " — to call into life the activity of all his duns ; and how 
liberally he made the fund available among them, appears from 
the following letter of Whitbread, addressed, not to Sheridan 
himself, but, apparently, (for the direction is wanting,) to some 
man of business connected with him : — 

" My dear Sir, 
" I had determined not to give any written answer to the note 
you put into my hands yesterday morning ; but a further peru- 
sal of it leads me to think it better to make a statement in 
writing, why I, for one, cannot comply with the request it con- 
tains, and to repel the impression which appears to have existed 
in Mr. Sheridan's mind at the time that note was written. He 
insinuates that to some postponement of his uiterests, by the 
Committee, is owing the distressed situation in which he is ilq- 
fortunately placed. 



HIGHT HON. KICHAKD BPwlNSLEY SHERIDAN. 291 

" Whatever postponement of the interests of the Proprietors 
may ultimately be resorted to, as matter of indispensable neces- 
sity from the state of the Subscription Fund, will originate in the 
written suggestion of Mr. Sheridan himself; and, in certain cir- 
cumstances, unless such latitude were allowed on his part, the 
execution of the x\.ct could not have been attempted. 

" At present there is no postponement of his interests, — but 
there is an utter impossibility of touching the Subscription Fund 
at all, except for very trifling specified articles, until a supple- 
mentary Act of Parliament shall have been obtained. 

" By the present Act, even if the Subscription were full, and 
no impediments existed to the use of the nioney, the Act itself, 
and the incidental expenses of plans, surveys, &c., are first to be 
paid for, — then the portion of Killegrew's Patent, — then the 
claimants, — and then the Proprietors. Now the Act is not paid 
for : White and Martindale are not paid ; and not one single 
claimant is paid, nor can any one of them he paid, until we have 
fresh powers and additional subscriptions. 

" How then can Mr. Sheridan attribute to any postponement 
of his interests, actually made by the Committee, the present 
condition of his affairs ? and why are we driven to these obser- 
vations and explanations 1 

" We cannot but all deeply lament his distress, but the palli- 
ation he proposes it is not in our power to give. 

" We cannot guarantee Mr. Hammersley upon the fund 
coming eventually to Mr. Sheridan. He alludes to the claims 
he has already created upon that fund. He must, besides, 
recollect the list of names he sent to me some time ago, of per- 
sons to whom he felt himself in honor bound to appropriate to 
each his share of that fund, in common with others for whose 
names he left a blank, and who, he says in the same letter, have 
written engao:ements from him. Besides, he has communicated 
both to Mr. Taylor and to Mr. Shaw, through me, offers to im- 
pound the whole of the sum to answer the issue of the unsettled 
demands made upon him by those gentlem.en respectively. 

" How then can we guarantee Mr. Hammersley in the pay 



292 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF l^HE 

ment of any sum out of this fund, so circumstanced 1 Mr. 
Hammersley's possible profits are prospective, and the prospect 
remote. I kiiow the positive losses he sustains, and the sacrifices 
he is obliged to make to procure the chance of the compromise 
he is willing to accept. 

" Add to all this, that we are still struggling with difficulties 
which we may or may not overcome ; that those difficulties are 
greatly increased by the persons whose interest and duty should 
equally lead them to give us every facility and assistance in the 
labors we have disinterestedly undertaken, and are determined 
fliithfuUy to discharge. If we fail at last, from whatever cause, 
the whole vanishes. 

" You know, my dear Sir, that I grieve for the sad state of 
Mr. Sheridan's affairs. I would contribute my mite to their 
temporary relief, if it would be acceptable ; but as one of the 
Committee, intrusted with a public fund, I can do nothing. I 
cannot be a party to any claim upon Mr. Hammersley ; and I 
utterly deny that, individually, or as part of the Committee, any 
step taken by me, or with my concurrence, has pressed upon the 
circumstances of Mr. Sheridan. 
" I am, 

" My dear Sir, 

" Faithfully yours, 

" Southill, Dec. 19, 1811. •' Samuel Whitbread." 

A dissolution of Parliament being expected to take place, Mr. 
Sheridan again turned his eyes to Stafford ; and, in spite of the 
estrangement to wdiich his infidelities at Westminster had given 
rise, saw enough, he th:>ught, of the " veteris vestigia flammce''' to 
encourage him to hope for a renewal of the connection. The 
following letter to Sir Oswald Moseley explains his views and 
expectations on the subject : — 

" Dear Sir Oswald, Cavendish- Square^ Nov, 29, 1811. 
" Being apprised that you have decided to decline offering 
yourself a candidate for Staffo/'d, when a future election may 



HIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 293 

arrive, — a place where you are highly esteemed, and where 3 very 
huinblc service m my power, as I have before declared to you, 
should have been at your command, — I have determined to ac- 
cept the very cordial invitations I have received from old friends 
in that quarter, and, (though entirely secure of my seat at Ilches- 
ter, and, mdeed, even of the second seat for my son, through the 
liberality of Sir W. Manners), to return to the old goal from 
whence I started thirty-one years since ! You will easily see 
that arrangements at Ilchester may be made towards assisting 
me, in point of expense, to meet any opposition^ and, in that re- 
spect^ nothing will be wanting. It will, I confess, be very grati- 
fying to me to be again elected by the sons of those who chose me 
in the year eighty, said adhered to me so stoutly and so long. 
1 think I was returned for Stafford seven, if not eight, times, in- 
cluding two most tough and expensive contests ; and, in taking 
a temporary leave of them I am sure my credit must stand 
well, for not a shilling did I leave unpaid. I have written to the 
Jerninghams, who, in the handsomest m.anner, have ever given 
me their warmest support; and, as no political object interests 
my mind so much as the Catholic cause, I have no doubt that 
independent of their personal friendship, I shall receive a continu- 
ation of their honorable support. 1 feel it to be no presum^ption 
to add, that other respectable interests in the neighborhood will 
be with me. 

" 1 need scarcely add my sanguine hope, that whatever interest 
rests with you, (which ought to be much), will also be in my 
favor. 

" I have the honor to be, 

" With great esteem and regard, 
^' Yours most sincerely, 

" R. B. Sheridan." 
" I mean to be in Stafford, from Lord G. Levison's, in about 
a fortnight." 

Among a number of notes addressed to his former constituents 
at this time, (which. I find written in his neatest hand, as if in- 
tendei to be sent), is this cirious one : — 



294 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

" Dear King John, Cavendish- Square, Sunday night. 
" I shall be in Stafford in the course of next week, and if Your 
Majesty does not renew our old alliance I shall never again have 
faith in any potentate on earth. 

'* Yours very sincerely, 
" Mr, John K. " R. B. Sheridan." 

The two attempts that were made in the course of the ye^ir 
1812 — the one, on the cessation of the Regency Restrictions, 
and the other after the assassination of Mr. Perceval, — to bring 
the Whigs into official relations with the Court, were, it is evi- 
dent, but little inspired on either side, with the feelings likely to 
lead to such -a result. It requires but a perusal of the published 
correspondence in both cases to convince us that, at the bottom 
of all these evolutions of negotiation, there was anything but a 
sincere wish that the object to which they related should be ac- 
complished. The Marechal Bassompiere was not more afraid of 
succeeding in his warfare, when he said, " Je crois que nous se- 
rons assez foil s pour prendre la Rochelle^^' than was one of the 
parties, at least, in these negotiations, of any favorable turn that 
might inflict success upon its overtures. Even where the Court, 
as in the contested point of the Household, professed its readi- 
ness to accede to the surrender so injudiciously demanded of it, 
those who acted as its discretionary organs knew too well the 
real wishes in that quarter, and had been too long and faithfully 
zealous in their devotion to those wishes to leave any fear that 
advantage would be taken of the concession. But, however high 
and chivalrous was the feeling with which Lord Moira, on this 
occasion, threw himself into the breach for his Royal Master, the 
service of Sheridan, though flowing partly from the same zeal, 
was not, I grieve to say, of the same clear and honorable char- 
acter. 

Lord Yarmouth, it is well known, stated in the House of 
vbmmons that he had communicated to Mr. Sheridan the inten- 
tion of the Household to resign, with the view of having that in 
lention conveyed to Lord Gre/ and Lord Grenville, and thus re- 



BIGHT HO:Sr. RICHARD BRIXSLEY SHERIDAX. 295 

moving the sole ground upon which these Noble Lords objected to 
the acceptance of office. Not only, however, did Sheridan endeavor 
to dissuade the Noble Vice-Chamberlain from resigning, but 
wdth an unfairness of dealing which admits, I own, of no vidica^ 
tion, he withheld from the two leaders of Opposition the intelli- 
gence thus meant to be conveyed to them ; and, when questioned 
by Mr. Tierney as to the rumored intentions of the Household 
to resign, offered to bet five hundred guineas that there was no 
such step in contemplation. 

In this conduct, which he made but a feeble attempt to ex- 
plain, and which I consider as the only indefensible part of his 
whole public life, he was, in some degree, no doubt, influenced 
by personal feelings against the two Noble Lords, whom his 
want of fairness on the occasion was so well calculated to thwart 
and embarrass. But the main motive of the whole proceeding 
is to be found in his devoted deference to what he knew to be 
the wishes and feelings of that Personage, who had become now, 
more than ever, the mainspring of all his movements, — whose 
spell over him, in this instance, was too strong for even his 
sense of character ; and to whom he might well have applied the 
words of one of his own beautiful songs — 

'' Friends, fortune, fame itself I'd lose, 
To gain one smile from thee T' 

So fatal, too often, are Royal friendships, w^hose attraction, 
like the loadstone-rock in Eastern fable, that drew the nails out 
of the luckless ship that came near it, steals gradually away the 
strength by which character is held together, till, at last, it 
loosens at all points, and falls to pieces, a wreck ! 

In proof of the fettering influence under which he acted on this 
occasion, we find him in one of his evasive attempts at vindica. 
tion, suppressing, from delicacy to his Royal Master, a circum- 
stance which, if mentioned, would have redounded considerably 
to his own credit. After mentioning that the Regent had 
"asked his opinion with respect to the negotiations that were 
going on," he adds, " I gave him my opinion, and I most de 



296 luK.MOIxlS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

voutly wish that that opmion could he published to the world, 
that it might serve to shame those who now belie me." 

The following is the fact to which these expressions allude. 
When the Prince-Eegent, on the death of Mr. Perce val, entrust- 
ed to Lord Wellesley the task cf forming an Admhnstration. it 
appears that His Royal Highness had signified either his inten- 
tion or wish to exclude a certain Noble Earl from the arrange- 
ments to be made under that commission. On learning this, 
Sheridan not only expressed strongly his opinion against such a 
step, but having, afterwards, reason to fear that the freedom 
with which he spoke on the subject had been displeasing to the 
Regent, he addressed a letter to that Illustrious Person, (a copy 
of which I have in my possession,) in which, after praising the 
" wisdom and magnanimity*' displayed by his His Royal High 
ness, in confiding to Lord Wellesley the powers that had just 
been entrusted to him, he repeated his opinion that any " pro- 
scription" of the Noble Earl in question, vv^ould be " a proceed- 
ing equally derogatory to the estimation of His Royal Highness's 
personal dignity and the security of his political power;" — add- 
ing, that the advice, which he took the liberty of giving against 
such a step, did not proceed ^' from any peculiar partiality to the 
Noble Earl or to many of those with whom he was allied ; but 
was founded on what he considered to be best for His Royal 
Highness's honor and interest, and for the general interests of the 
country." 

The letter (in alluding to the displeasure which he feared he 
had incurred by venturing this opinion) concludes thus : — 

" Junius said in a public letter of his, addressed to Your Royal 
Father, ' the fate that made you a King forbad your having a 
friend.'. I deny his proposition as a general maxim — I am con- 
fident that Your Royal Highness possesses qualities to win and 
secure to you the attachment and devotion of private friendship, 
in spite of your being a Sovereign. At least I feel that I am 
entitled to make this declaration as far as relates to myself — 
and I do it under the assured convi ^>tion that ■ ou will never re 



RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRIKSLEY SHERIDAN. 297 

quiie fiom me any proof of that attachment and devotion incon 
sistent with the clear and honorable independence of mind and 
conduct, which 3onstitute my sole value as a public man, and 
which have hi'herto been my best recommendation to your 
gracious favor, confidence, and protection." 

It is to be regretted that while by this wise advice he helped 
to save His Royal Master from the invidious appearance of acting 
upon a principle of exclusion, he should, by his private manage- 
ment cifterwards, have but too well contrived to secure to him 
all the advantage of that principle in reality. 

The political career of Sheridan was now drawing fast to a close. 
He spoke but upon two or three other occasions during the Ses- 
sion ; and among the last sentences uttered by him in the House 
were the following; — which, as caL alated to leave a sweeter 
flavor oji the memory, at parting, than those questionable trans- 
actions that have just been related, I have great pleasure in 
citing : — 

'• My objection to the present Ministry, is that they are avowedly array- 
ed and embodied against a principle, — that of concesssion to the Catholics 
of Ireland,— which I think, and must always think, essential to the safety 
of this empire. I will never give my vote to any Administration that op- 
poses the question of Catholic Emancipation. I will not consent to receive 
a furlough upon that particular question, even though a Ministry were car- 
rying every other that I wished. In tine, I think the situation of Ireland a 
pararuount consideration. If they were to be the last words I should ever 
utter in this House, I should say, ' Be just to Ireland, as you value your 
own honor, — be just to Ireland, as you value your own peace.' '' 

His '.^ery last words in Parliament, on his own motion relative 
to the Overtures of Peace from France, were as follow: — 

" Yet after the general subjugation and ruin of Europe, should there 
ever exist an independent historian to record the awful events that pro- 
duced this universal calamity, let that historian have to say,—' Great Bri- 
tain fell, and with her fell all the best securities for the charities of human 
life, for the power and honor, the fame, the glory, and the liberties, not 
only of herself, but of the whole civilized world.' ' 

VOL. II. 13" 



298 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

In the month of September following, Parliament was dis- 
solved ; and, presuming upon the encouragement which he had 
received from some of his Stafford friends, he again tried his 
chance of election for that horouorh, but without success. This 
failure he, himself, imputed, as v/ill be seen by the following let- 
ter, to the refusal of Mr. Whitbread to advance him 2000/. out 
of the sum due to him by the Committee for his share of the 
property : — 

"Dear Whitbread, Cook^s Hotel, Nov. 1, 1812. 

" I was misled to expect you in town the beginning of last 
week, but being positively assured that you will arrive to-mor- 
row, I have declined accompanying Hester into Hampshire as I 
intended, and she has gone to-day without me ; but I must leave 
town to join her as soon as I can. We must have some serious 
but yet, I hope, friendly conversation respecting my unsettled 
claims on the Drury-Lane Theatre Corporation. A concluding 
paragraph, in one of your last letters to Burgess, which he 
thought himself justified in showing me, leads me to believe that 
it is not your object to distress or destroy me. On the subject 
of your refusing to advance to me the 2000Z. I applied for to 
take with me to Staflbrd, out of the large sum confessedly due 
to me, (unless I signed some paper containing I know not what, 
and which you presented to my breast like a cocked pistol on 
the last day I saw you,) I will not dwell. This, and this alone, 
lost me my election. You deceive yourself if you give credit to any 
other causes, which the pride of my friends chose tv. attribute 
our failure to, rather than confess our poverty. I do not mean 
now to expostulate with you, much less to reproach you, but sure 
I am that when you contemplate the positive injustice of refusing 
me the accommodation I required, and the irreparable injury 
that refusal has cast on me, overturning, probably, all the honor 
and independence of what remain3 of my political life, you will 
deeply reproach yourself 

"I shall make an application to the Committee^ when I hear 
you have appointed one, for the assistance which most pressing 



RIGHT H0^\ RICHAED BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 299 

circumstances now compel me to call for ; and all I desire is, 
through a sincere wish that our friendship may not be interrupt- 
ed, that the answer to that application may proceed from a bona 
fide Committee^ with their signatures, testifying their decision. 

" I am, yet, 

" Yours very sincerely, 
« & Whithread, Esq, " R. B. Sheridan." 

Notwithstanding the angry feeling which is expressed in this 
letter, and which the state of poor Sheridan's mind, goaded as he 
was now by distress and disappointment, may well excuse, it will 
be seen by the following letter from Whitbread, written on the 
very eve of the elections in September, that there was no want of 
inclination, on the part of this honorable and excellent man, to 
afford assistance to his friend, — but that the duties of the perplex- 
ing trust which he had undertaken rendered such irregular ad- 
vances as Sheridan required impossible : — 

" My dear Sheridan, 

" We will not enter into details, although you are quite mis- 
taken in them. You know how happy I shall be to propose to 
the Committee to agree to anything practicable ; and you may 
make all practicable, if you will have resolution to look at the 
state of the account between you and the Committee, and agree 
to the mode of its liquidation. 

"You will recollect the 5000Z. pledged to Peter Moore to an- 
swer demands ; the certificates given to Giblet, Ker, Ironmonger, 
Cross, and Ilirdle, five each at your request ; the engagements 
given to Ellis and myself, and the arrears to the Linley family. 
All this taken into consideration will leave a large balance still 
payable to you. Still there are upon that balance the claims 
•ipon you by Shaw, Taylor, and Grubb, for all of which you have 
otTered to leave the whole of your compensation in my hands, to 
abide the issue of arbitration. 

" This may be managed by your agreeing to take a consider- 
able portion of your balance in bonds, leaving those bonds in 
trus* to answer the events. 



r» 



00 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 



" I shall be in town on Monday to the Committee, and will be 
prepared with a sketch of the state of your account with tlie 
Committee, and with the mode in which I think it would be pru- 
dent for you and them to adjust it ; which if you will agree to, 
and direct the conyeyance to be made forthwith, I will undertake 
to propose the advance of money you wish. But without a clear 
arrangement, as a justification, nothing can be done. 

'- 1 shall be in Doyer-Street at nine o'clock, and be there and 
in Drury-Lane all day. The Queen comes, but the day is not 
fixed. The election will occupy me after Monday. After that 
is oyer, I hope we shall see you. 

" Yours yery truly, 

" Southill, Sept, 25, 1812. " S. Whitbread." 

The feeling entertained by Sheridan towards the Committee 
had already been strongly manifested this year by the manner in 
which Mrs. Sheridan receiyed the Resolution passed by them, 
offering her the use of a box in the new Theatre. The notes of 
Whitbread to Mrs. Sheridan on this subject, prove how anxious 
he was to conciliate the wounded feelings of his friend : — 

" My dear Esther, 
" I have delayed sending the enclosed Resolution of the Drury- 
Lane Committee to you, because I had hoped to have found a 
moment to have called upon you, and to have delivered it into 
your hands. But I see no chance of that, and therefore literally 
obey my instructions in writin^x to you. 

" I had great pleasure in proposing the Resolution, which was 
cordially and unanimously adopted. I had it always in contem- 
plation, — but to have proposed it earlier would have been im- 
proper. I hope you will derive much amusement from your 
visits to the Theatre, and that you and all of your name will ul- 
timately be pleased with what has been done. I have just had a 
most satisfactory letter from Tom Sheridan. 
" I am, 

" My dear Esther, 

" Aff'ectionately yours, 
" Dover-Strepl, July 4, 1812, "Samuel Whitbread.'' 



ftlGHT HO NT. RICHARD BRTN^SLEY SHERIDAX. 301 

" My dear Esther, 

" It has been a great mortification and disappointment to me, 
to have met the Committee twice, since the offer of the use of a 
box at the new Theatre was made to you, and that I have not had 
to report the slightest acknowledgment from you in return. 

" The Committee meet again to-morrow, and after that there 
will be no meeting for some time. If I shal be compelled to re- 
turn the same blank answer I have hitherto done, the inference 
drawn will naturally be, that what was designed by himself, who 
moved it, and by those w^ho voted it, as a gratifying mark of at- 
tention to Sheridan through you, (as the most gratifying mode of 
conveying it.) has, for some unaccountable reason, been mistaken 
and is declined. 

" But I shall be glad to know before to-morrow, what is youi 
determination on the subject. 

" I am, dear Esther, 

" Affectionately yours, 

''Dover- Street, July 12, 1812. " S. Whitbread." 

The failure of Sheridan at Stafford completed his ruin. He 
was now excluded both from the Theatre and from Parliament : 
— the two anchors by which he held in life were gone, and he was 
left a lonely and helpless wreck upon the waters. The Prince 
Regent offered to bring him into Parliament ; but the thought 
of returning to that scene of his triumphs and his freedom, with 
the Royal owner's mark, as it were, upon him, was more than he 
could bear — and he declined the offer. Indeed, miserable and 
insecure as his life was now, when we consider the public humili- 
ations to which he would have been exposed, between his ancient 
pledge to Whiggism and his attachment and gratitude to Roy- 
alty, it is not wonderful that he should have preferred even the 
alternative of arrests and imprisonments to the risk of bringing 
upon his political name any further tarnish in such a struggle. 
Neither could his talents have much longer continued to do them- 
selves justice, amid the pressure of such cares, and the increased 
indulgence of habits, which, as is usual, gained upon him, as all 



802 MEMOIRS OV THE LIFE 0^ I'Ht! 

other indulgences vanished. The ancients, we are told, by a sig 
nificant device, inscribed on the wreaths they wore at banquets 
the name of Minerva. Unfortunately, from the festal wreath of 
Sheridan this name was now but too often effaced ; and the same 
charm, that once had served to give a quicker flow to thought, 
was now employed to muddy the stream, as it became painful to 
contemplate what v/as at the bottom of it. By his exclusion, 
therefore, from Parliament, he was, perhaps, seasonably saved 
from affording to that " Folly, which loves the martyrdom of 
Fame,''"^ the spectacle of a great mind, not only surviving itself, 
but, like the champion in Berni, continuing the combat after life 
is gone : — 

'^Andava comhattendo, ed era mo't'to,-- 

In private society, however, he could, even now, (before the Rubi- 
con of the cup was passed,) fully justify his high reputation for 
agreeableness and wit ; and a day which it was my good fortune 
to spend with him, at the table of Mr. Rogers, has too many 
mournful, as well as pleasant, associations connected with it, to 
be easily forgotten by the survivors of the party. The company 
consisted but of ilr. Rogers him^self, Lord Byron, Mr. Sheridan, 
and the writer of this Memoir. Sheridan knew the admiration 
his audience felt for him ; the presence of the young poet, in 
particular, seemed to bring back his own youth and wit ; and the 
details he gave of his early life were not less interesting and ani- 
mating to himself than delightful to us. It was in the course of this 
evening that, describing to us the poem which Mr. Whitbread had 
written and sent in, among the other Addresses, for the opening 
of Drury-Lane, and which, like the rest, turned chiefly on allu- 
sions to the Phenix, he said, — " But Whitbread made more of 
this bird than any of them : — he entered into particulars, and 

* "And Folly loves the marlyrdom of Fame." 

This fine line is in Lord Byron's Monody to his memory. There is another line, equally 
true and toucliing, where aliud ng to the irregularities of the latter part of Sheridan's 
life, ne says — 

" ind what to them seem'd nee might be but woe " 



ftlGHT HOK. tllCHARD ^RUNSLeY BHERlBAN. 303' 

described its wings, beak, tail, &c. ; in short, it was a Poulterer's 
description of a Phenix !" 

The following extract from a Diary in my possession, kept by 
Lord Byron during six months of his residence in London, 1812 
— 13, will show the admiration which this great and generous 
spirit felt for Sheridan : — 

^^ Saturday, December 18, 1813. 

" Lord Holland told me a curious piece of sentimentality in 
Sheridan. The other night we were all delivering our respec- 
tive and various opinions on him and other ' hommes 7narquans^^ 
and mine was this : — ' Whatever Sheridan has done or chosen to 
do has been par excellence^ always the best of its kind. He has 
written the best comedy, (School for Scandal,) the best opera, 
(The Duenna — in my mind far before that St. Giles's lampoon, 
The Beggar's Opera,) the best farce, (The Critic — it is only too 
good for an after-piece,) and the best Address, (Monologue on 
Garrick,) — and to crown all, delivered the very best oration, (the 
famous Begum Speech,) ever conceived or heard in this country.' 
Somebody told Sheridan this the next day, and on hearing it, he 
burst into tears ! — Poor Brinsley ! If they were tears of plea- 
sure, I would rather have said those few, but sincere, w^ords, 
than have written the Iliad, or made his own celebrated Philippic. 
Nay, his own comedy never gratified me more than to hear that 
he had derived a moment's gratification from any praise of mine 
— humble as it must appear to ' my elders and my betters.' " 

The distresses of Sheridan now increased every day, and 
through the short remainder of his life it is a melancholy task 
to follow him. The sum arising from the sale of his theatrical 
property was soon exhausted by the various claims upon it, and 
he was driven to part with all that he most valued, to satisfy 
further demands and provide for the subsistence of the day. 
Those books w^hich, as I have already mentioned, were presented 
to him by various friends, now stood in their splendid bindings,* 

* In most of them, too, were the names of the givers. The delicacy with which Mr. 
Harrison of Wardour-Street, (tlie pawnbroker with whom the books and the cup were de* 



304 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

on the shelves of the pawnbroker. The handsome cup, given 
him by the electors of Stafford, shared the same fate. Three or 
four fine pictures by Gainsborough, and one by Morland, were 
sold for little more than five hundred pounds ; ^ and even the 
precious portrait of his first wife,f by Reynolds, though not ac- 
tually sold during his life, vanished away from his eyes into 
other hands. 

One of the most humiliating trials of his pride was yet to 
conie. In the spring of this year he was arrested and carried to 
a spunging-house, where he remained two or three days. 
This abode, from which the following painful letter to Whit- 
bread was written, formed a sad contrast to those Princely halls, 
of which he had so lately been the most brilliant and favored 
guest, and which were possibly, at that very momicnt, lighted up 
and crowded with gay company, unmindful of him within those 
prison walls : — 

^''TooWs Court, Carsitor- Street^ Thursday^ past two, 
" I have done everything in my powder with the solicitors, 

White and Tonnes, to obtain my release, by substituting a better 

securitv for them than their detainino; me — but in vain. 

" Whitbread, putting all false professions of friendship and 

feeling out of* the question, you have no right to keep me here! 

— for it is in truth your act — if you had not forcibly withheld 

posited.) behaved, after the death of Mr. Sheridan, des^erves to be mentioned with praise. 
Instead of availing himself of llie public feeling at that moment, by submitting these 
precious relics to the competition of a sale, he privately conmunicated to the family and 
one or two friends of Sheridan tlie circumstance of his having such articles in his hands, 
and demanded nothing more than the sum regularly due on them. The Stafford cup is in 
the possession of Mr. Charles Sheridan. 
* In the following extract from a note to his solicitor, he refers to these pictures : 

'' Dear Burgess, 
"I am perfectly satisfied with your account ; — nothing can be more clear or fair, or 
more disinterested on your part; — but I must grieve to think that fivii or six hundred 
pounds for my poor pictures are ndded to ihe expenditure. Hov/ever, we shall come 
through !'* 

+ As Saint Cecilia. The portrait of ilrs. Sheridan at Knowle, though less ideal than 
that of Sir Joshua, is, (for tiiis very reason, \)orhaps, as bearing a close/ resemblance to 
Uie original,) still more beauiiful 



illGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 305 

from me the twelve thousand 'pounds^ in consequence of a threat- 
ening letter from a miserable swindler, whose claim YOU in 
particular knew to he a lie, I should at least have been out of the 
reach of this state of miserable insult — for that, and that only^ 
lost me my e.eat in Parliament. And I assert that you cannot 
find a lawAer in the land, that is not either a natuarl-born fool or 
a corrupted scoundrel, who will not declare that your conduct in 
this respect was neither w^arrantable nor legal — but let that pass 
for the present. 

" Independently of the lOOOZ. ignorantly withheld from me on 
the day of considering my last claim. I require of you to an- 
swer the draft I send herew^ith on the part of the Committee, 
pledging myself to prove to them on the first day I can personal- 
ly meet them, that there are still thousands and thousands due 
to me, both legally, and equitably, from the Theatre. My word 
ought to be taken on this subject ; and you may produce to them 
this document, if one, among them could think that, under all 
the circumstances, your conduct required a justification. O God ! 
with what mad confidence have I trusted your word, — I ask jus- 
tice from you, and no boon, I enclosed you yesterday three dif- 
ferent securities, which had you been disposed to have acted 
even as a private friend, would have made it certain that you 
might have done so without the smallest risk. These you dis- 
creetly offered to put into the fire, when you found the object of 
your humane visit satisfied by seeing me safe in prison. 

*'I shall only add, that, I think, if I know myself, had our 
lots been reversed, and I had seen you in my situation, and had 
left Lady E. in that of my wife, 1 would have risked 6001. rather 
than have left you so — although I had been in no way accessary 
in bringing you into that condition. 

" S. Whitbread, Esq. " R. B. Sheridan." 

Even in this •situation the sanguineness of his disposition did 
not desert him ; for he was found by Mr. Whitbread, on his 
visit to the spunging-house, confidently calculating on the repre- 
sentation for Westminster, in w^hich the proceedings relative to 



/96 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OP THE 

Lord Cochrane at that moment promised a vacancy. On his 
return home, however, to Mrs. Sheridan, (some arrangements 
having been made by Whi thread for his release,) all his forti- 
tude fojsook him, and he burst into a long and passionate fit of 
wee})ing at the profanation, as he termed it, which his person had 
suffered. 

He had for some months had a feeling that his life was near 
its close , and I find the following touching passage in a letter from 
him to Mrs. Sheridan, after one of those differences which will 
sometimes occur between the most affectionate companions, and 
which, possibly, a remonstrance on his irregularities and want of 
care of himself occasioned : — " Never again let one harsh w^ord 
pass between us, during the period, which may not perhaps be 
long, that we are in this world together, and life, however cloud- 
ed to me, is mutually spared to us. I have expressed this same 
sentiment to my son, in a letter I wrote to him a few days since, 
and I had his answer — a most affecting one, and, I am sure, very 
sincere — and have since cordially embraced him. Don't imagine 
that I am expressing an interesting apprehension about myself, 
which I do not feel." 

Though the new Theatre of Drury-Lane had now been three 
years built, his feelings had never allowed him to set his foot 
within its walls. About this time, however, he was persuaded 
by his friend. Lord Essex, to dine with him and go in the even- 
ing to His Lordship's box, to see Kean. Once there, the '•^genius 
loci'''' seems to have regained its influence over him ; for, on miss- 
ing him from the box, between the Acts, Lord Essex, who feared 
4hat he had left the House, hastened out to inquire, and, to his 
great satisfaction, found him installed in the Green-room, with 
all the actors around him, welcoming him back to the old region 
of his glory, with a sort of filial cordiality. Wine was imme- 
diately ordered, and a bumper to the health of Mr. Sheridan 
was drank by all present, with the expression of many a hearty 
wish that he would often, very often, re-appear among them. 
This scene, as was natural, exhilarated his spirits, and, on parting 
wi^h Lord Essex that night, at his own door, in Saville-Row. he 



HlGfiT HON. RICHARD BRTNSLEY SHERIDAI^. 307 

said triumphantly that the world wo^ld soon hear of him, for 
the Duke of Norfolk was about to bring him into Parliament. 
ITiis, it appears, was actually the case ; but Death stood near as 
he spoke. In a few days after his last fatal illness began. 

Amid all the distresses of these latter years of his life, he ap- 
pears but rarely to have had recourse to pecuniary assistance 
from friends. Mr. Peter Moore, Mr. Ironmonger, and one or 
two others, who did more for the comfort of his decline than any 
of his high and noble associates, concur in stating that, except 
for such an occasional trifle as his coach-hire, he was by no means, 
as has been sometimes asserted, in the habit of borrowing. One 
instance, however, where he laid himself under this sort of obli- 
gation, deserves to be mentioned. Soon after the return of Mr. 
Canning from Lisbon, a letter was put into his hands, in the 
House of Commons, which proved to be a request from his old 
friend Sheridan, then lying ill in bed, that he would oblige him 
with the loan of a hundred pounds. It is unnecessary to say 
that the request was promptly and feelingly complied with ; and 
if the pupil has ever regretted leaving the politics of his master, 
it was not at that moment, at least, such a feeling was likely to 
present itself 

There are, in the possession of a friend of Sheridan, copies of 
a correspondence in which he was engaged this year w^ith two 
noble Lords and the confidential agent of an illustrious Person- 
age, upon a subject, as it appears, of the utmost delicacy and 
importance. The letters of Sheridan, it is said, (for I have not 
seen them,) though of too secret and confidential a nature to 
meet the public eye, not only prove the great confidence reposed 
in him by the parties concerned, but show the clearness and 
manliness of mind which he could still command, under the 
pressure of all that was most trying to human intellect. 

The disorder, with which he was now attacked, arose from a 
diseased state of the stomach, brought on partly by irregular 
living, and partly by the harassing anxieties that had, for so many 
years, without intermission, beset him. His povrers of digestiorr 
grew every day worse, till he was at length unable to retain any 



g08 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THS 

sustenance. Notwithstanding this, however, his strength seemed 
to be but little broken, and his pulse remained, for some time, 
strong and regular. Had he taken, indeed, but ordinary care 
of himself tlirough life, the robust conformation of his fi^ame, 
and particularly, as I have heard his physician remark, the pecu- 
liar width and capaciousness of his chest, seemed to mark him 
out for a long course of healthy existence. In general Nature 
appears to have a prodigal delight in enclosing her costliest es- 
sences in the most frail and perishable vessels : — but Sheridan 
was a signal exception to this remark ; for, with a spirit so 
" finely touched," he combined all the robustness of the most 
uninspired clay. 

Mrs. Sheridan was, at first, not aware of his danger ; but Dr. 
Bain — whose skill was now, as it ever had been, disinterestedly 
at the service of his friend,* — thought it right to communicate 
to her the apprehensions that he felt. From that moment, her 
attentions to the sufferer never ceased day or night ; and, thougn 
drooping herself with an illness that did not leave her long be 
hind him, she watched over his every word and wish, with unre- 
mitting anxiety, to the last. 

* A letter rom Sheridan to this amiable mar., (of which I know not the date,) 
written in reference to a caution which he had given Mrs. Sheridan, against sleeping in 
the same bed with a lady who was consumptive, expresses feelings creditable alike to 
the writer and his physician : — 

*' My dear Sir, July 31. 

" The caution you recommend proceeds from that attentive kindness which Hester al- 
ways receives from you, and upon which I place the greatest reliance for her safety. 1 
so entirely agree with your apprehensions on the subject, that I think it was very giddy 
in me not to have been struck with them when she first mentioned having slept with hei 
friend. Nothing can abate my love for her ; and the manner in which you apply the in 
Icrest you take in her happiness, and direct the influence you possess in her mind, ren 
der you, beyond comparison, tlie person I feel most < bliged to upon earth- I take this 
opportunity of saying lliis upon paper, because it is a subject on which I always find it 
difficult to spt'ak. 

" With respect to that part of your note in which you express such friendly partiality, 
as to my parliamentary conduct, I need not add that there is no man whose good opinion 
can be more flattering to ma. 

" I am ever, my dear Bain, 

" Y'our sincere and obliged 

"R B. SHKRIDAIf." 



RIGHT HCN. RICHARD BRIJS^SLEY SHERIDAN. 309 

Connected, no doubt, with the disorganization of his stomach, 
was an abscess, from which, though distressingly situated, he 
does not appear to have suffered much pain. In the spring of 
this year, however, he was obliged to confine himself, almost 
entirely, to nis bed. Being expected to attend the St. Patrick's 
Dinner, on the 17th of March, he wrote a letter to the Duke of 
Kent, who was President, alleging severe indisposition as the 
oii«i3e c-f hife absence. The contents of this letter were com 
raunicated to the company, and produced, as appears by the 
following note from the Duke of Kent, a strong sensation : — 

Kensington Palace y March 27, 1816. 
" My dear Sheridan, 
" I have been so hurried ever since St. Patrick's day, as to be 
unable earlier to thank you for your kind letter, which I received 
while presiding at the festive board ; but I can assure you, I was 
not unmindful of it then^ but announced the afflicting cause of 
your absence to the company, who expressed, in a manner that 
could not be misunderstood^ their continued affection for the 
writer of it. It now only remains for me to assure you, that I 
appreciate as I ought the sentiments of attachment it contains 
for me, and which will ever be most cordially returned by him, 
who is with the most friendly regard, my dear Sheridan, 

" Yours faithfully, 
" The Right Hon. K B. Sheridan, " Edward." 

The following letter to him at this time from his elder sister 
will be read with interest : — 

"My dear Brother, Dublin, Mag 9, 1816. 

" I am very, very sorry you are ill ; but I trust in God your 
naturally strong constitution will retrieve all, and that I shall 
soon have the satisfaction of hear ing that you are in a fair way 
of recovery. I well know the nature of your complaint, that it 
is extremely painful, but if properly treated, and no doubt you 
have the best advice, not dangerous. I know a lady now past 
seventy four, who many years since was attacked with a suuilar 



310 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

complaint, and is now as well as most persons of her time of lif^. 
Where poulticing is necessary, I have known oatmeal used with 
the best effect. Forgive, dear brother, this officious zeal. Your 
son Thomas told me he felt obliged to me for not prescribing for 
him. I did not, because in his case I thought it would be ineffec- 
tual ; in yours I have reason to hope the contrary. I am very 
glad to hear of the good effect change of climate has made in 
him ; — I took a great liking to him ; there was something kind m 
his manner that won upon my affections. Of your son Charles 
I hear the most delightful accounts : — that he has an excellent 
and cultivated understanding, and a heart as good. May he be a 
blessing to you, and a compensation for much you have endured ! 
That J do not know him, that I have not seen you, (so early and 
so long the object of my affection,) for so many years, has not 
been my fault; but I have ever considered it as a drawback upon 
a situation not otherwise unfortunate ; for, to use the words of 
Goldsmith, I have endeavored to ' draw upon content for the 
deficiencies of fortune ;' and truly I have had some employment 
in that way, for considerable have been our worldly disappoint- 
ments. But those are not the worst evils of life, and we have 
good children, which is its first blessing. I have often told you 
my son Tom bore a strong resemblance to you, when I loved 
you preferably to any thing the world contained. This, which 
was the case with him m childhood and early youth, is still so in 
mature years. In character of mind, too, he is very like you, 
though education and situation have made a great difference. 
At that period of existence, when the temper, morals, and pro- 
pensities are formed, Tom had a mother who watched over his 
health, his well-being, and every part of education in which a 
female could be useful. You had lost a mother who would have 
cherished you, whose talents you inherited, who would have soft- 
ened the asperity of our father's temper, and probably have 
prevented his unaccountable partialities. You have always shown 
a noble independence of spirit, that the pecuniary difficulties you 
often had to encounter could not induce you to forego. As a 
public man, you have been, like the motto of the Lefanu family. 



RIGHT HON. EICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN, 311 

^Sine macula;^ and I am persuaded had you not too early been 
thrown upon the world, and alienated from your family, you 
would have been equally good as a private character. My son is 
eminently so. * * * 

" Do, dear brother, send me one line to tell me you are better, 
and believe me, most affectionately, 

" Yours, 

" Alicia Lefanu." 

While death was thus gaining fast on Sheridan, the miseries 
of his life were thickening around him also ; nor did the last cor 
ner, in which he now lay down to die, afford him any asylum 
from the clamors of his legal pursuers. Writs and executions 
came in rapid succession, and bailiffs at length gained possession 
of his house. It was about the beginning of May that Lord 
Holland, on being informed by Mr. Rogers, (who was one of 
the very few that watched the going out of this great light with 
interest,) of the dreary situation in which his old friend was ly- 
ing, paid him a visit one evening, in company with Mr. Rogers, 
and by the cordiality, suavity, and cheerfulness of his conversa- 
tion, shed a charm round that chamber of sickness, which, per- 
haps, no other voice but his own could have imparted. 

Sheridan was, I believe, sincerely attached to Lord Holland, in 
whom he saw transmitted the same fine qualities, both of mind 
and heart, which, notwithstanding occasional appearances to the 
contrary, he had never ceased to love and admire in his great 
relative ; — the same ardor for Right and impatience of Wrong 
— the same mixture of wisdom and simplicity, so tempering each 
other, as to make the simplicity refined and the wisdom unaffected— 
the same gentle magnanimity of spirit, intolerant only of tyranny 
and injustice — and, in addition to all this, a range and vivacity of 
conversation, entirely his own, which leaves no subject untouched 
or unadorned, but is, (to borrow a fancy of Dryden,) " as the 
Morning of the Mind," bringing new objects and images succes- 
sively into view, and scattering its own fresh light over all, 
Such a visit, therefore, could not fail to be soothing and gratify 



S12 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

ing to Sheridan ; and, on parting, both Lord Holland and Mr. 
Rogers comforted him with the assurance that some steps should 
be taken to ward off the immediate evils that he dreaded. 

An evening or two after, (Wednesday, May 15,) I was with 
Mr. Rogers, when, on returning home, he found the following af 
flicting note upon his table : — 

" Saville-Row, 
"I find things settled so that 150/. will remove all difficulty. 
I am absolutely undone and broken-hearted. I shall negotiate 
for the Plays successfully in the course of a week, when all shall 
be returned. I have desired Fairbrother to get back the Guar- 
antee for thirty. 

" They are going to put the carpets out of window, and break 
into Mrs. S.'s room and take me — for God's sake let me see 
you. 

" R. B. S." 

It was too late to do any thing when this note was received, 
being then betw^een twelve and one at night ; but Mr. Rogers 
and I walked dow^n to Saville-Row together to assure ourselves 
that the threatened arrest had not yet been put in execution. A 
servant spoke to us out of the area, and said that all w^as safe for 
the night, but that it was intended, in pursuance of this new 
proceeding, to paste bills over the front of the house next day. 

On the following morning I was early with Mr. Rogers, and 
willingly undertook to be the bearer of a draft for 150/.** to Sor 
ville-Row. I found Mr. Sheridan good-natured and cordial as 
ever; and though he w^as then w^ithin^a few weeks of his death, 
his voice had not lost its fulness or strength, nor was that lustre, 
for which his eyes were so remarkable, diminished. He showed, 
too, his usual sanguineness of disposition in speaking of the price 
that he expected for his Dramatic Works, and of the certainty 
he felt of being able to arrange all his affairs, if his complaint 
would but suffer him to leave his bed. 

* Lord Holland afterwards insisted upon paying- the half of this sum, — which was no« 
the first of the sanne amount that my liberal friend, Mr. Rogers, had advanced for Sheri 
dan. 



EIGHT HON. KICHARD BRIISSLEY SHEKIDAJ^. 813 

In the following month, his powers began rapidly to fail him ; 
— his stomach was completely worn out, and could no longer 
bear any kind of sustenance. During the whole of this time, 
as far as I can learn, it does not appear that, (with the exceptions 
I have mentioned,) any one of his Noble or Royal friends ever 
called at his door, or even sent to inquire after him ! 

About this period Doctor Bain received the following note 
from Mr. Vaughan : — 

"My dear Sir, 
" An apology in a case of humanity is scarcely necessary, be- 
sides I have the honor of a slight acquaintance with you. A 
friend of mine, hearing of our friend Sheridan's forlorn situation, 
and that he has neither money nor credit for a few comforts, has 
employed me to convey a small sum for his use, through such 
channel as I think right. I can devise none better than through 
you. If I had had the good fortune to have seen you, I should 
have left for this purpose a draft for 50Z. Perhaps as much 
more might be had if it will be conducive to a good end — of 
course you must feel it is not for the purpose of satisfying trou- 
blesome people. I will say more to you if you will do me the 
honor of a call in your way lo Sa^dlle-Street to-morrow. I am 
a mere agent. 

" I am, 

" My dear Sir, 

" Most truly yours, 
"23, Grafton Street, "John Taylor Vaughan. 

" If I should not see you before twelve, I will come through 
the passage to you." 

In his interview with Dr. Bain, Mr. Vaughan stated, that the 
sum thus placed at his disposal was. in all, 200/. ;* and the pro- 
position being submitted to Mrs. Sheridan, that lady, after con- 
sulting w^ith some of her relatives, returned for answer that, as 

♦ Mr. Vaughan did uol give Doctor Bain lo understand that he was authorized to go W- 
yond tlie 200Z. ; but, in a conversation which I liad with him a year or two after, mcop- 
teiijplation of this Memoir, lie lold me tliai a further supply was intende4. 



314 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

there was a sufficiency of means to provide all that was neces- 
sary for her husband's comfort, as well as her own, she begged 
leave to decline the offer. 

Mr. Vaughan always said, that the donation, thus meant to be 
doled out, came from a Royal hand ; — but this is hardly credi- 
ble. It would be safer, perhaps, to let the suspicion rest upon 
that gentleman's memory, of having indulged his own benevo- 
lent disposition in this disguise, than to suppose it possible that 
so scanty and reluctant a benefaction was the sole mark of atten- 
tion accorded by a " gracious Prince and Master"* to the last, 
death-bed wants of one of the most accomplished and faithful 
servants, that Royalty ever yet raised or ruined by its smiles. 
When the philosopher Anaxagoras lay dying for want of suste- 
nance, his great pupil, Pericles, sent him a sum of money. " Take 
it back," said Anaxagoras — " if he wished to keep the lamp alive, 
he ought to have administered the oil before !" 

Li the mean time, the clamors and incursions of creditors in- 
creased. A sheriff's officer at length arrested the dying man in 
his bed, and w^as about to carry him off, in his blankets, to a 
spunging-house, w^hen Doctor Bain interfered — and, by threaten- 
ing the officer with the responsibility he must incur, if, as was 
but too probable, his prisoner should expire on the way, averted 
this outrage. 

About the middle of June, the attention and sympathy of the 
Public w^ere, for the first time, awakened to the desolate situa- 
tion of Sheridan, by an article that appeared in the Morning 
Post, — written, as I understand, by a gentleman, who, though on 
no very cordial terms with him, forgot every other feeling in a 
generous pity for his fate, and in honest indignation against those 
who now deserted him. " Oh delav not," said the writer, with- 
out naming the person to whom he alluded — "delay not to draw 
aside the curtain within wliich that proud spirit hides its sufler 
ings." Pie then adds, with a striking anticipation of what afler- 
wards happened : — "Prefer ministering in the chamber of feick 
ness to mustering at 

f Spe Sheridijii's Letter, nai^e 2^ 



RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 315 

* The splendid sorrows that adorn the hearse ;' 

I say. Life and Succor against Westminster-Abbey and a Fune- 
ral !"' 

This article produced a strong and general sensation, and was 
reprinted in the same paper the following day. Its effect, too, 
was soon visible m the calls made at Sheridan's door, and in the 
appearance of such names as the Duke of York, the Duke of 
Argyle, &c. among the visitors. But it was now too late ; — the 
spirit, that these unavailing tributes might once have comforted, 
was now fast losing the consciousness of every thing earthly, but 
pain. After a succession of shivering fits, he fell into a state of 
exhaustion, in which he continued, with but few more signs of 
suffering, till his death. A day or two before that event, the 
Bishop of London read prayers by his bed-side ; and on Sunday, 
the seventh of July, in the sixty-fifth year of his age, he died. 

On the following Saturday the Funeral took place ; — his re- 
mains having been previously removed from Saville-Row to the 
house of his friend, Mr. Peter Moore, in Great George-Street, 
Westminster. From thence, at one o'clock, the procession 
moved on foot to the Abbey, where, in the only spot in Poet's 
Corner that remained unoccupied, the body was interred; and 
the following simple inscription marks its resting-place : — 

"RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN, 

BORN, 1751, 

DIED, 7th JULY, 1816. 

THIS MARBLE IS THE TRIBUTE OF AN ATTACHED 

FRIEND, 

PETER MOORE." 

Seldom has there been seen such an array of rank as g/aced 
this Funeral."* The Pall-bearers were the Duke of Bedford, the 
Earl of Lauderdale, Earl Mulgra^^^e, the Lord Bishop of London, 
Lord Holland, and Lord Spencer. Among the mourners were 

II was well remarked by a French Joiirna., in coiitrasting llie penury of Sheridan's 
latter years with the splendor <i( his Funeral, that " France is the place for a man of let- 
ters to live in, and England the place lor lii.ii to die in/' 



816 MEMOIRS 0^ THE LIFE OF THE 

His Royal Highness the Duke of York, His Royal Highness the 
Duke of Sussex, the Duke of Argy le, the Marquisses of Anglesea 
and Tavistock ; the Earls of Thanet, Jersey, Harrington, Bes- 
borough, Mexborough, Rosslyn, and Yarmouth ; Lords George 
Cavendish and Robert Spencer; Viscounts Sidmouth, Granville, 
and Duncannon ; Lords Rivers, Erskine, and Lynedoch ; the 
Lord Mayor ; Right Hon. G. Canning and W. W. Pole, &c., 

Where were they all, these Royal and Noble persons, who 
now crowded to " partake the gale" of Sheridan's glory — where 
w^ere they all w^hile any life remained in him ? Where were 
they all, but a few weeks before, when their interposition might 
have saved his heart from breaking, — or when the zeal, now 
wasted on the grave, might have soothed and comforted the death 
bed ? This is a subject on w4iich it is difficult to speak with 
patience. If the man was unworthy of the commonest offices of 
humanity while he lived, why all this parade of regret and hom- 
age over his tomb ? 

There appeared some verses at the time, which, however in 
temperate in their satire and careless in their style, came, evi- 
dently, w^arm from the heart of the waiter, and contained senti- 
ments to w^hich, even in his cooler moments, he needs not hesi- 
tate to subscribe : — 

•' Oh it sickens the heart to see bosoms so hollow, 

And friendships so false in the great and high-born ; — 
To think what a long line of Titles may follow 
The relics of him who died, friendless and lorn ! 

" How proud they can press to the faneral array 

Of him whom they shunn'd, in his sickness and sorrow — 
How bailiffs may seize his last blanket to-day, 

Whose pall shall be held up by Nobles to-morrow !" 

* In the T'-iin of all this phalanx of Dukes, Marquisses, Earls, Viscounts, Barons. 
Honorables, and Right Honorables, Princes of the Blood Royal, and First Officers of the 
State, it was not a little intereslins: to see, walking humbly, side by side, the only two 
men whose friendship had not waited for the call of vanity to display itself — Dr. Bain and 
^r. Rogers, 



UlQUT :&0X. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 31? 

The anonymous writer thus characterizes the talents of She 
ridan : — 

" Was this, then, the fate of that high-gifted man, 
The pride of the palace, the bower, and the hall — 
The orator, dramatist, minstrel, — who ran 
Through each mode of the lyre, and was master of all. 

" Whose mind was an essence, compounded, with art, 
From the finest and best of all other men's powers ; — 
Who rul'd, like a wizard, the world of the heart, 
And could call up its sunshine, or draw down its showers ; — 

" Whose humor, as gay as the fire-fly's light, 

Play'd round every subject, and shone, as it play'd ; — 
Whose wit, in the combat as gentle as bright, ^ 

Ne'er carried a heart-stain away on its blade ; — 

** Whose eloquence brightened whatever it tried, 
Whether reason or fancy, the gay or the grave, 
Was as rapid, as deep, and as brilliant a tide. 
As ever bore Freedom aloft on its wave !" 



Though a perusal oT the foregoing pages has, I trust, sufficiently 
furnished the reader with materials out of which to form his own 
estimate of the character of Sheridan, a few general remarks 
may, at parting, be allowed me — rather with a view to cot, rey 
the impressions left upon myself, than with any presumptuous 
hope of influencing the deductions of others. 

In considering the intellectual powers of this extraordinary 
man, the circumstance that first strikes us is the very scanty 
foundation of instruction, upon which he contrived to raise him- 
self to such eminence both as a writer and a politician. It is 
true, in the line of authorship he pursued, erudition was not so 
much wanting ; and his wit, like the laurel of Csssar, w^as leafy 
enough to hide any bareness in this respect. In politics, too, he 
had the advantage of entering upon his career, at a time when 
habits of business and a knowledge of details were less looked 



318 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF TfiE 

for in public men than they are at present, and when the House 
of Commons was, for various reasons, a more open play-ground 
for eloquence and wit. The great increase of public business, 
since then, has necessarily made a considerable change in this 
respect. Not only has the time of the Legislature become too 
precious to be wasted upon the mere gymnastics of rhetoric, but 
even those graces, with which true Oratory surrounds her state- 
ments, are but impatiently borne, where the statement itself is 
the primary and pressing object of the hearer.* Burke, we 
know, was, even for his own time, too much addicted to what 
falconers would call raking^ or flying wide of his game ; but 
there was hardly, perhaps, one among his great contemporaries, 
who, if beginning his career at present, would not find it, in 
some degree, necessary to conform his style to the taste for 
business and matter-of-fact that is prevalent. Mr. Pitt would 
be compelled to curtail the march of his sentences — Mr. Fox 
would learn to repeat himself less lavishly — nor would Mr. 
Sheridan venture to enliven a question of evidence by a long 
and pathetic appeal to Filial Piety. 

In addition to this change in the character and taste of the 
House of Commons, which, while it has lowered the value of some 
of the qualifications possessed by Sheridan, has created a demand 
for others of a more useful but less splendid kind, which his edu- 
cation and habits of life would have rendered less easily attain- 
able by him, we must take also into account the prodigious dif- 

* The new light that has been thrown on Political Science may also, perhaps, be as- 
signed as a reason for this evident revolution in Parliamentary taste. " Tiuth," says Lord 
Bacon, " is a naked and open daylight, that doth not show the masques, and mummeries, 
and triumphs of the present world half so stately and daintily as candle-lights ;" — and 
there can be little doubt that the clearer any important truths are made, the less contro- 
versy they will excite among fair and rational men. and the less passion and fancy ac- 
cordingly, can eloquence infuse into the discussion of them. Mathematics have produced 
no quarrels among mankind — it is by the mysterious and the vague, that temper as well 
as imagination is most roused. In proof of this, while the acknowledged clearnrss, al- 
most to truism, which the leading principles of Political Science have attained, has tended 
to simplify and tame down the activities of eloquence on that subject, there is still an- 
other arena left, in the science of the Law, where the sam.e il'umination of truth has not 
yet penetratea, and where Oratory will still continue to work her perplexing spells, till 
Common Sense and the plain prmciples of Utility shall find their way there also to weaken 
thern. 



RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 3l9 

fereixe produced by the general movement, at present, of the 
whole civilized world towards knowledge ; — a movement, which 
no public man, however great his natural talents, could now lag 
behind with impunity, and which requires nothing less than 
the versatile and encyclopcedic powers of a Brougham to keep 
pace wdth it. 

Another striking characteristic of Sheridan, as an orator and 
a writer, was the great degree of labor and preparation which 
his productions in both lines cost him. Of this the reader has 
seen some curious proofs in the preceding pages. Though the 
papers left behind by him have added nothing to the stock of 
his chef (T oeuvres^ they have given us an insight into his manner 
of producing his great works, which is, perhaps, the next most 
interesting thing to the w^orks themselves. Though no new star 
has been discovered, the history of the formation of those we 
already possess, and of the gradual process by which they were 
brought " firm to retain their gathered beams," has, as in the in- 
stance of The School for Scandal, been most interestingly unfold- 
ed to us. 

The same marks of labor are discoverable throughout the 
whole of his Parliamentary career. He never made a speech 
of any moment, of which the sketch, more or less detailed, has 
not been found among his papers — with the show'ier passages 
generally written two or three times over, (often without any 
material change in their form,) upon small detached pieces of 
paper, or on cards. To such minutias of effect did he attend, 
that I have found, in more than one instance, a memorandum 
made of the precise place in which the words " Good God, Mr. 
Speaker," were to be introduced. These preparatory sketches are 
continued down to his latest displays ; and it is observable that 
when from the increased derangement of his affairs, he had no 
longer leisure or coUectedness enough to prepare, he ceased to 
speak. 

The only time he could have found for this pre-arrangement 
of his thoughts, (of which few, from the apparent idleness of his 
life, suspected him,) must have been during the many hours of 



820 Memoirs of the life of Tfifi 

the day that he remained in bed, — when, frequently, while th(^ 
world gave him credit for being asleep, he was employed m lay- 
ing the frame-work of his wit and eloquence for the evening. 

That this habit of premeditation was not altogether owing to 
a want of quickness, appears from the power and liveliness of 
his replies in Parliament, and the- vivacity of some of his retorts 
in conversation.* The labor, indeed, which he found necessary 
for his public displays, was, in a great degree, the combined ef- 
fect of his ignorance and his taste ; — the one rendermg him fear 
ful of committing himself on the matter of his task, and the 
other making him fastidious and hesitating as to the manner of it. 
I cannot help thinking, however, that there must have been, also, 
a degree of natural slowness in the first movements of his mind 
upon any topic ; and, that, like those animals which remain gaz- 
ing upon their prey before they seize it, he found it necessary to 
look intently at his subject for some time, before he was able to 
make the last, quick spring that mastered it. 

Among the proofs of this dependence of his fancy upon time 
and thought for its development, may be mentioned his familiar 
letters, as far as their fewness enables us to judge. Had his wit 
been a " fruit, that would fall without shaking," we should, in 
these communications at least, find some casual windfalls of it. 
But, from the want of sufficient time to search and cull, he seems 
to have given up, in despair, all thoughts of being lively in his 
letters ; and accordingly, as the reader must have observed in 
the specimens that have been given, his compositions in this way 

* His best ton-mots are in the memory of every one. Among those less kno^Aii, per- 
haps, is his answer to General T , relative to some difference of opinion between them 

on the War in Spain : — "Well, T , are you still on your high horse?" — "If I was on 

a horse before, I am upon an elephant now." " No,T , you were upon an ass before, 

an'l now you are upon a mule.^^ 

Some mention having been made in his presence of a Tax upon Milestones, Sheridan 
feaid, " such a tax would be unconstitutional, — as they were a race that could not meet 
to remonstrate." 

As an ijistance of his humor, I have been toki that, in some country-house where he 
was on a visit, an elderly maiden lady having set her heart on being his companion in a 
walk, he excused himself at first on account of the badness of the weather. Soon after- 
wards, however, the lady intercepted him. in an attempt to escape without her : — "Well," 
she said, "it has cleared up, I see." "Why, yes," he answered, "it has cleared up 
enough for one, but not for <itw." 



MGfiT HON". RICIiAHD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 821 

are not only unenlivened by any excursions beyond the bounds 
of mere matter of fact, but, from the habit or necessity of taking 
a certain portion of time for correction, are singularly confused, 
disjointed, and inelegant in their style. 

It is certain that even^his hon-mots in society were not always 
to be set down to the credit of the occasion ; but that frequently, 
like skilful priests, he prepared the miracle of the moment be- 
fore-hand. Nothing, indeed, could be more remarkable than the 
patience and tact, with Vvhich he would wait through a whole 
evening for the exact moment, when the shaft which he had rea- 
dy feathered, might be let fly with effect. There was no effort, 
either obvious or disguised, to lead to the subject — no " question 
detached, (as he himself expresses it,) to draw you into the am- 
buscade of his ready-made joke" — and, when the lucky moment 
did arrive, the natural and accidental manner in which he would 
let this treasured sentence fall from his lips, considerably added 
to the astonishment and the charm. So bright a thing, produced 
so easily, seemed like the delivery of Wieland's* Amanda in a 
dream ; — and his owti apparent unconsciousness of the value of 
what he said might have deceived dull people into the idea that 
there was really nothiug in it. 

The consequence of this practice of waiting for the moment of 
effect was, (as all, who have been much in his society, must have 
observed,) that he would remain inert in conversation, and even 
taciturn, for hours, and then suddenly come out with some bril- 
liant sally, which threw a light over the whole evening, and was 
carried away in the memories of all present. Nor must it be 
supposed that in the intervals, either before or after these flashes, 
he ceased to be agreeable ; on the contrary, he had a grace and 
good nature in his manner, which gave a charm to even his most 
ordinary sayings, — and there was, besides, that ever-speaking 
lustre in his eye, which made it impossible, even when he was 
silent, to forget who he was. 

A curious instance of the care with which he treasured up the 
ftlicities of his wit, appears in the use he made of one of those 

* Sec Sotheby's admirable Translation of Oberon, Canto 9. 

VOL. n. 14* 



822 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

epigrammatic passages, which the reader may remember among 
the m^emorandums for his Comedy of Affectation, and which, iu 
its first form, ran thus : — " He certainly has a great deal of fm- 
cy, and a very good memory ; but, with a perverse ingenuity, he 
employs these qualities as no other person does — for he employs 
his fancy in his narratives, and keeps his recollection for his wit : 
— when he makes his jokes, you applaud the accuracy of his 
memory, and 'tis only when he states his facts that you admire 
the flights of his imagination." After many efforts to express 
this thought more concisely, and to reduce the language of it to 
that condensed and elastic state, in which alone it gives force to 
the projectiles of wit, he kept the passage by him patiently some 
years, — till at length he found an opportunity of turning it to 
account, in a reply, I believe, to Mr. Dundas, in the House of 
Commons, when, with the most extemporaneous air, he brought 
it forth, in the following compact and pointed form :— " The 
Right Honorable Gentleman is indebted to his memory for his 
jests, and to his imagination for his facts." 

His Political Character stands out so fully in these pages, that 
it is needless, by any comments, to attempt to raise it into 
stronger relief If to watch over the Rights of the Subject, and 
guard them against the encroachments of Power, be, even in safe 
and ordinary times, a task full of usefulness and honor, how 
much more glorious to have stood sentinel over the same sacred 
trust, through a period so trying as that with which Sheridan 
had to struggle — when Liberty itself had become suspected and 
unpopular — when Authority had succeeded in identifying patrio- 
tism with treason, and when the few remaining and deserted 
friends of Freedom were reduced to take their stand on a nar- 
rowing isthmus, between Anarchy on one side, and the angry 
incursions of Power on the other. How manfully he maintained 
his ground in a position so critical, the annals of England and of 
the Champions of her Constitution will long testify. The truly 
national spirit, too, with which, when that struggle was past, and 
the dangers to liberty from without seemed greater than any 
from within, he forgot all past differences, in the one common 



IIIGHT HON. RIG SARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAlSr. 325 

cause of Englishmen, and, while others " gave but the left hand 
to the Country,"* proffered her both of his, stamped a seal of sin- 
cerity on his public conduct, which, in the eyes of all England, 
authenticated it as genuine patriotism. 

To his own party, it is true, his conduct presented a very dif- 
ferent phasis ; and if implicit partisanship were the sole merit 
of a public man, his movements, at this and other junctures, w^ere 
far too independent and unharnessed to lay claim to it. But, 
however useful may be the bond of Party, there are occasions 
that supersede it ; and, in all such deviations from the fidelity 
which it enjoins, the two questions to be asked are — were they, 
as regarded the Public, right 1 were they, as regarded the indi- 
vidual himself, unpurchased ? To the former question, in the 
instance of Sheridan, the whole country responded in the affirm- 
ative ; and to the latter, his account with the Treasury, from 
first to last, is a sufficient answer. 

Even, however, on the score of fidelity to Party, when we re- 
collect that he more than once submitted to some of the worst 
martyrdoms which it imposes — that of sharing in the responsibil- 
ity of opinions from which he dissented, and suffering by the ill 
consequences of measures against which he had protested ; — when 
we call to mind, too, that during the Administration of Mr. Ad- 
dington, though agreeing wholly with the Ministry and differing 
with the Whigs, he even then refused to profit by a position so 
favorable to his interests, and submitted, like certain religionists, 
from a point of honor, to suffer for a faith in which he did not 
believe — it seems impossible not to concede that even to the ob- 
ligations of Party he was as fliithful as could be expected from a 
spirit that so far outgrew its limits, and, in paying the tax of 
fidelity while he asserted the freedom of dissent, showed that he 
could sacrifice every thing to it, except his opinion. Through all 
these occasional variations, too, he remained a genuine Whig to 
the last ; and, as I have heard one of his own party happily ex- 
press it, was " like pure gold, that changes collar in the fire, but 
comes out unaltered." 

* His owin words 



S2^ MEMOIRS O:^ THE LIFE OF TfiS 

The transaction in 1812, relative to the Household, was. as 1 
have already said, the least defensible part of his public life. 
But it should be recollected how broken he was^ both in mind 
and body, at that period ; — his resources from the Theatre at an 
end, — the shelter of Parliament about to be taken from over 
his head also, — and old age and sickness coming on, as every 
hope and comfort vanished. In that wreck of all around him, 
the friendship of CaTlton-House was the last asylum left to his 
pride and his hope ; and that even character itself should, in a 
too zealous m^oment, have been one of the sacrifices offered up 
at the shrine that protected him, is a subject more of deep regret 
than of wonder. The poet Cowley, in speaking of the unpro- 
ductiveness of those pursuits connected with Wit and Fancy, 
says beautifully — 

" Where such fairies once have danc'd, no grass will ever grow ;" 

but, unfortunately, thorns will grow there ; — and he who walks 
unsteadily among such thorns as now beset the once enchanted 
path of Sheridan, ought not, after all, to be very severely criti- 
cised. 

His social qualities were, unluckily for himself, but too attrac- 
tive. In addition to his powers of conversation, there was a 
well-bred good-nature in his manner, as well as a deference to 
the remarks and ophiions of others, the want of which very 
often, in distinguished wits, offends the self-love of their hearers, 
and makes even the dues of admiration that they levy a sort of 
" Droit de Seigneur, "^^ paid with unwillingness and distaste. 

No one was so ready and cheerful in promoting the amuse- 
ments of a country-house ; and on a rural excursion he was al- 
ways the soul of the party. His talent at dressing a little dish 
was often put in requisition on such occasions, and an Irish stew 
was that on which he particularly plumed himself. Some friends 
of his recall with delight a day of this kind which they passed 
with him, when he made the whole party act over the Battle of 
the Pyramids on Marsden Moor, and ordered " Captain" Creevey 



HIGHT HON. RICHARD BRIIS^SLEY SHERIDAN. 825 

and others upon various services, against the cows and donkeys 
entrenched in the ditches. Being of so playful a disposition 
himself, it was not wonderful that he should take such pleasure 
in the society of children. I have been told, as doubly charac- 
teristic of him, that he has often, at Mr. Monckton's, kept a 
chaise and four waiting half the day for him at the door, while 
he romped with the children. 

In what are called Ve7'b de Societit^ or drawing-room verses, he 
took great delight ; and there remain among his papers several 
sketches of these trifles. I once heard him repeat in a ball- 
room, some verses which he had lately written on Waltzing, and 
of which I remember the following : 

" With tranquil step, and timid, downcast glance, 

Behold the well-pair'd couple now advance. 

In such sweet posture our first Parents mov'd. 

While, hand in hand, through Eden's bowers they rov'd ; 

Ere yet the Devil, with promise foul and false, 

Turn'd their poor heads and taught them how to Walse, 

One hand grasps hers, the other holds her hip — 
* * * * * 

For so the Law's laid down by Baron Trip."* 

He had a sort of hereditary fancy for difficult trifling in poe- 
try ; — particularly for that sort, which consists in rhyming to the 
same word through a long string of couplets, till every rhyme 
that the language supplies for it is exhausted, f The following 
are specimens from a poem of this kind, which he wrote on the 
loss of a lady's trunk : — 

"My Trunk! 

"{To Anne,) 

" Have you heard, my dear Anne, how my spirits are sunk? 
Have you heard of the cause ? Oh, the loss of my Trunk ! 
J? rem exertion or firmness I've never yet slunk ; 
But my fortitude's gone with the loss of my Trunk I 

♦ This gentleman, whose name suits so aptly as legal authority on the subject of Waltz- 
ing, was at the time these verses were written, well known m the dancing circles. 

t Some verse? by General Fiizpatrick on I.-rd Holland's father are the best specimen 
that I know of t lis sort of Sch^zo. 



326 HEMOIKS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

Stout Lucy, mj maid, is a damsel of spunk ; 

Yet she weeps uight and day for the loss of my Trunk t 

Vd better turn nun, and coquet with a monk ; 

For with whom can I flirt without aid from my Trunk I 

4e * * * * * 

Accurs'd be the thief, the old rascally hunks ; 
Who rifles the fair, and lays hands on their Trunks I 
He, who robs the King's stores of the least bit of junk. 

Is hang'd — while he's safe, who has plunder 'd my Trunk ! 

* * * * * * 

There's a phrase amongst lawyers, when nunc's put for tu7ic; 
But, tunc and nunc both, must I grieve for my Trunk ! 
Huge leaves of that great commentator, old Brunck, 
Perhaps was the paper that lin'd my poor Trunk ! 
But my rhymes are all out ; — for I dare not use st — k ;* 
'Twould shock Sheridan more than the loss of my Trunks 

From another of these trifles, (which, no doubt, produced 
much gaiety at the breakfast-table,) the following extracts will 
be sufficient: — 

" Muse, assist me to complain, 
While I grieve for Lady Jane. 
I ne'er was in so sad a vein. 

Deserted now by Lady Jane. 

* * * * 

Lord Petre's house was built by Payne — 

No mortal architect made Jane. 

If hearts had windows, through the pane 

Of mine you'd see sweet Lady Jane. 

***** 

At breakfast I could scarce refrain 

From tears at missing lovely /ane. 

Nine rolls I eat, in hopes to gain 

The roll that might have fall'n to /arie," &c. 

Another TVTitten on a Mr. Bigg^ contains some ludicroT'-'' coup- 
lets : — 

*' I own he's not fam'd for a reel or a jig, 
Tom Sheridan there supasses Tom Bigg. — 

* He had a particular horror of this word. 



ElCnX HOX. KICHAED BKIXSLEY SHERIDAX. 827 

For lam'd in one thigh, he is obliged to go zig- 

Zag, like a crab — for no dancer is Bigg. 

Those who think him a coxcomb, or call him a prig, 

How little they know of the mind of my Bigg ! 

Tho' he ne-er can be mine, Hope will catch a twig — 

Two Deaths — and I yet may become Mrs. Bigg. 

Oh give me, with him, but a cottage and pig. 

And content 1 would live on Beans, Bacon, ^mdBigg.'^ 

A few more of these light productions remain among his pa- 
pers, but their wit is gone with those for whom they were wTit- 
ten ; — the wings of Time " eripuere yoco5." 

Of a very different description are the following striking and 
spirited fragments, (which ought to have been mentioned in a 
former part of this work,) written by him, apparently, about the 
year 1794, and addressed to the Nav^al heroes of that period, to 
console them for the neglect they experienced from the Govern- 
ment, while ribands and titles were lavished on the Whig Seced- 
ers* — 

"Never mind them, brave black Dick, 
Though they- ve played thee such a trick — 
Damn their ribands and their garters, 
Get you to your post and quarters. 
Look upon the azure sea, 
There's a Sailor's Taffety ! 
Mark the Zodiac's radiant bow, 
That's a collar fit for HOWE !— 
And, then P— tl — d*s brighter far, 
The Pole shall furnish you a Star !* 
Damn their ribands and their garters. 
Get you to your post and quarters. 
Think, on what things are ribands showered — 

The two Sir Georges — Y and H ! 

Look to what rubbish Stars will stick, 
To Dicky H n and Johnny D k ! 

♦ This reminds ine of a happy application which he made, upon a subsequent occasion 
«' *WO liiies of Dryden : — 

" When men like Erskine go astray, 
The slars are n:.ore in fault iian tjiey," 



828 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

Would it be for your country's good, 

That you miglit pass for Alec. H d, 

Or, perhaps, — and worse by half — 

To be mistaken for Sir R h ! 

Would you, like C , pine with spleen, 

Because your bit of silk was green ? 

Would you, like C , change your side, 

To have your silk new dipt and dyed ? — 

Like him exclaim, ' My riband's hue 

Was green — and now, by Heav'ns ! 'tis blue,' 

And, like him — stain your honor too ? 

Damn their ribands and their garters, 

Get you to your post and quarters. 

On the foes of Britain close, 

While B k garters his Dutch hose, 

And cons, with spectacles on nose, 
(While to battle you advance,) 
His * Honi soil qui rnal y pensej " 



It has been seen, by a letter of his sister already given, that, 
when young, he was generally accounted handsome ; but, in later 
years, his eyes were the only testimonials of beauty that re- 
mained to him. It was, indeed, in the upper part of his face that 
the Spirit of the mxan chiefly reigned ; — the dominion of the 
world and the Senses being rather strongly marked out in the 
lower. In his person, he was above the middle size, and his 
general make was, as I have already said, robust and well pro- 
portioned. It is remarkable that his arms, though of powerful 
strength, were thin, and appeared by no means muscular. His 
hands were small and delicate ; and the following couplet, writ- 
ten on a cast from one of them, very livelily enumerates both 
its physical and moral qualities : — 

*' Good at a Fight, but better at a Play, 
Godlike in giving, but — the Devil to Pay !" 

Among his habits, it may not be uninteresting to know that 
his hours of composition, as long as he continued to be an author, 
were at night, and that he required a profusion of lights around 



BIGHT HON. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 329 

him while he wrote. Wine, too, was one of his favorite helps to 
mspiration ; — " If the thought, (he would say,) is slow to come, a 
glass of good wine encourages it, and, when it does come, a glass 
of good wine rewards it." 

Having taken a cursory view of his Literary, Political, and 
Social qualities, it remains for me to say a few words upon that 
most important point of all, his Moral character. 

There are few persons, as we have seen, to whose kind and 
affectionate conduct, in some of the most interesting relatiohs of 
domestic life, so many strong and honorable testimonies remain. 
The pains he took to win back the estranged feelings of his father, 
and the filial tenderness with which he repaid long years of pa- 
rental caprice, show a heart that had, at least, set out by the 
right road, however, in after years, it may have missed the way. 
The enthusiastic love which his sister bore him, and retained un- 
blighted by distance or neglect, is another proof of the influence 
of his amiable feelings, at that period of life when he was as yet 
unspoiled by the world. We have seen the romantic fondness 
which he preserved towards the first Mrs. Sheridan, even while 
doing his utmost, and in vain, to extinguish the same feeling in 
her. With the second wife, a course, nearly similar, was run ; 
— the same " scatterings and eclipses" of affection, from the 
irregularities and vanities, in w^hich he continued to indulge, but 
the same hold kept of each other's hearts to the last. Iler early 
letters to him breathe a passion little short of idolatry, and her 
devoted attentions beside his death-bed showed that th^i essential 
part of the feeling still remained. 

To claim an exemption for frailties and irregularities on the 
score of genius, while there are such names as Milton and New- 
ton on record, were to be blind to the example which these and 
other great men have left, of the grandest intellectual powers 
combined w^ith the most virtuous lives. But, for the bias given 
early to the mind by education and circumstances, even the least 
charitable may be inclined to make large allowances. We have 
seen how idly the young days of Sheridan were w^asted — how 
soon b'^ was left, (in the words of the Prophet,) " to dwell care- 



00 MEMOIKS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

lessly," and with what an undisciplined temperament he was 
thrown upon the world, to meet at every step that never-failing 
spring of temptation, which, like the fatal fountain in the Garden 
of Armida, sparkles up for ever in the pathway of such a 
man : — 

* Un fonte sorge ia lei, che vaghe e monde 
Ha I'acque si, che i riguardanti asseta, ^ 
Ma dentro ai freddi siioi cristalli asconde 
Di tosco estran malvagita secreta." 

Even marriage, which is among the sedatives of other men's 
lives, but formed a part of the romance of his. The very at- 
tractions of his wife increased his danger, by doubling, as it were 
the power of the world over him, and leading him astray by her 
light as well as by his own. Had his talents, even then, been sub- 
jected to the manege of a profession, there was still a chance that 
business, and the round of regularity which it requires, might 
have infused some spirit of order into his life. But the Stage — 
his glory and his ruin — opened upon him ; and the property of 
which it made him master was exactly of that treacherous kind^ 
which not only deceives a man himself, but enables him to de- 
ceive others, and thus combined all that a person of his care- 
lessness and ambition had most to dread. An uncertain income, 
which, by eluding calculation, gives an excuse for improvidence,* 

* How feelingly aware he was of this great source of all his misfortunes appears from 
a passage in the able speech which he delivered before the Chancellor, as Counsel in his 
own case, in the year 1799 or 1800 : — 

" It is a great disadvantage, relatively speaking, to any man, and especially to a very 
careless, and a very sanguine man, to have possessed an uncertain and fluctuating in- 
come. That disadvantage is greatlj' increased, if the person so circumstanced has con- 
ceived himself to be in some degree entitled to presume that, by the exertion of his own 
talents, he may at pleasure increase that income — thereby becoming induced to make 
promises to himself which he may afterwards fail to fulfil. 

" Occasional excess and frequent unpunctuality will be the natural consequences of 
such a situation. But, my Lord, to exceed an ascertained and limited income, I hold to 
be a very different matter. In that situation I have placed myself, (not since the present 
unexpected contention arose, for since then I would have adopted no arrangements,) but 
months since, by my Deed of Trust to Mr. Adam, and in that situation I shall remain un- 
til every debt on eartli, in which the Theatre or I am concerned, shall be fully and fairly 
discharged. Till then I will live on what remains to me — preserving that spirit of un 
daunted independence, which, both as a public and a private nr.an, I trust, I have hith 
erlo maintained." 



MGHT HON. KICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 331 

and, still more fatal, a facility of raising money, by which the 
lesson, that the pressure of distress brings with it, is evaded till 
it comes too late to be of use — such w^as the dangerous power 
put into his hands, in his six-and-twentieth year, and amidst the 
intoxication of as deep and quick draughts of fame as ever young 
author quaffed. Scarcely had the zest of this excitement begun 
to wear off, w^hen he was s-uddenly transported into another 
sphere, wdiere successes still more flattering to his vanity awaited 
him. Without any increase of means, he became the companion 
and friend of the first Nobles and Princes, and paid the usual 
tax of such unequal friendships, by, in the end, losing them and 
ruining himself The vicissitudes of a political life, and those 
deceitful vistas into ofUce that w^ere for ever opening on his 
party, made his hopes as fluctuating and uncertain as his means, 
and encouraged the same delusive calculations on both. He 
seemed, at every new turn of affairs, to be on the point of re- 
deeming himself; and the confidence of others in his resources 
was no less fatal to him than his own, as it but increased the fa- 
cilities of ruin that surrounded him. 

Such a career as this — so shaped towards wrong, so inevitably 
devious — it is impossible to regard otherwise than wdth the most 
charitable allowances. It w^as one long paroxysm of excitement 
— no pause for thought — no inducements to prudence— the attrac- 
tions all dravring the wrong way, and a Voice, like that w^hieh 
Bossuet describes, crying inexorably from behind him "On, on !"* 
Instead of wondering at the wreck that followed all this, our only 
surprise should be, that so much remained uninjured through the 
trial, — that his natural good feelings should have struggled to the 
last with his habits, and his sense of all that was right in conduct 
so long survived his ability to practise it. 

Numerous, however, as were the causes that concurred to dis- 
organize his moral character, in his pecuniary embarrassment lay 

* " La loi est pronoricee : il faut avancer toujours. Je voudrois retourner sur mes pas : 
'Marche, Marche !' Un poids invincible nous entraine : il faut sans cesse avancer vers 
le precipice. On se console pourtant, parce que de Icxns en teriiS on rencontre des objets 
qui nous divertissent, des eaux courantes, des fleurs qui passent. On voudroil arreler ; 
Sernwn sur la Keswrection. 



882 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF THE 

the source of those blemishes, that discredited him most in the 
eyes of the world. He might have indulged his vanity and his 
passions, like others, v^itli but little loss of reputation, if the con- 
sequence of these indulgences had not been obtruded upon obser- 
vation in the forbidding form of debts and distresses. So much 
did his friend Richardson, who thoroughly knew him, consider his 
whole character to have been influenced bv the straitened circum- 
stances in which he was placed, that he used often to say, " If an 
enchanter could, by the touch of his wand, endow Sheridan sud- 
denly with fortune, he would instantly transform him into a most 
honorable and moral man." As some corroboration of this opi- 
nion, I must say that, in the course of the inquiries which my 
task of biographer imposed upon me, I have found all w^ho were 
ever engaged ii: pecuniary dealings with him, not excepting those 
who suffered most severely by his irregularities, (among which 
class I may cite the respected name of Mr. Hammersley,) una- 
nimous in expressing their conviction that he always meant fairly 
and honorably ; and that to the inevitable pressure of circum- 
stances alone, any failure that occurred in his engagements was 
to be imputed. 

Tliere cannot, indeed, be a stronger exemplification of the 
truth, that a want of regularity* becomes, itself, a vice, from the 

* His improvidence in every thing connected with money was most remarkable. He 
would frequently be obliged to stop on his journeys, for want of the means of getting- on, 
and to remain living expensively at an inn, till a remittance could reach him. His let- 
ters to the treasurer of the theatre on these occasions were generally headed with the 
words "Money-bound." A friend of his told me, that one miOrnifig, while waiting for 
him in his study, he cast his eyes over the heap of unopened letters that lay upon the ta- 
ble, and, seeing one or two with coronets on the seals, said to Mr. Westley, the treasurer, 
who was present, "I see we are all treated alike." Mr. Westley then informed him 
that he had once found, on looking over this table, a letter which he had himself sent, a 
few weeks before, 1o Mr. Sheridan, enclosing a ten-pound note, to release him from some 
inn, but which v'^heridan, having raised the supplies in some other way, had never thought 
of opening. The prudent treasurer took away the letter, and reserved the enclosure for 
some future exigence. 

Among instances of his inattention to letters, the following is m.entioned. Going one 
day to the bankh g-house, where he was accustomed to receive his salary, as Receiver 
of Cornwall, and where they somelhnes acconimodated him with small sums before the 
reguia" nine of payment, he asked, wilh all due humility, whether they could oblige him 
with the loan of twenty pounds. '-Cerainly, Sir," said the clerk, — "would you like 
anymore — fifty, or a hundred?" Sheridan, all smiles and gratitude, answered that a 
hundred pounds would be of the grtalesl convenience to Mm. " Perhaps you would like 



RIGHT HON. RICHARD BRIXSLEY SHERIDAN. 38^ 

manifold evils to which it leads, than the whole history of Mr. 
Sheridan's pecuniary transactions. So far from never paying his 
debts, as is often asserted of him, he was, in fact, always paying ; 
— but in such a careless and indiscriminate manner, and with so 
little justice to himself or others, as often to leave the respectable 
creditor to suffer for his patience, while the fraudulent dun was 
paid two or three times over. Never examining accounts nor 
referring to receipts, he seemed as if, (in imitation of his own 
Charles, preferring generosity to justice,) he wished to make 
paying as like as possible to giving. Interest, too, with its usual, 
silent accumulation, swelled every debt ; and I have found seve- 
ral instances among his accounts where the interest upon a small 
sum had been suffered to increase till it outgrew the principal ; — 
" minima pars ipsa puella sidy 

Notwithstanding all this, however, his debts were by no means 
so considerable as has been supposed. In the year 1808, he em- 
powered Sir E. Berkely, Mr. Peter Moore, and Mr. Frederick 
Homan, by power of attorney, to examine into his pecuniary 
affairs and take measures for the discharge of all claims upon 
him. These gentlemen, on examination, found that his bona fide 
debts w^ere about ten thousand pounds, while his apparent debts 
amounted to five or six times as much. Whether from conscien- 
tiousness or from pride, however, he w^ould not suffer any of the 
claims to be contested, but said that the demands were all fair, 
and must be paid just as they were stated ; — though it was w^ell 
known that many of them had been satisfied more than once. 
These gentlemen, accordingly, declined to proceed any further 
with their commission. 

On the same false feeling he acted in 1813-14, when the bal- 
ance due on the sale of his theatrical property w^as paid him, 
in a certain number of Shares. When applied to by any cred- 

to take two hundred, or three?" said the clerk. At every increase of the sum, the sur- 
prise of the borrower increased. " Have not you then received our letter?" said the 
clerk ; — on which it turned out that, in consequence of the falling in of some fine, a sum 
of twelve hundred pounds had been lately placed to the credit of the Receiver-General, 
and lliat, from not having opened the letter written to apprise him, he had been left in 
ignorance of his good luck. 



834 MEMOIES OF THE LIFE OF THE 

itor, he would give him one of these Shares, and allowing his 
claim entirely on his own showing, leave him to pay himself 
out of it, and refund the balance. Thus irregular at all times, 
even when most wishing to be right, he deprived honesty itself 
of its merit and advantages ; and, where he happened to be 
just, left it doubtful, (as Locke says of those religious people, 
w^ho believe right by chance, without examination,) " whether 
even the luckiness of the accident excused the irregularity of 
the proceeding."* 

The consequence, how^ever, of this continual paying was that 
the number of his creditors gradually diminished, and that ulti- 
mately the amount of his debts was, taking all circumstances 
into account, by no means considerable. Tw^o years after his 
death it appeared by a list made up by his Solicitor from claims 
sent in to him, in consequence of an advertisement in the news- 
papers, that the bona fide debts amounted to about five thousand 
five hundred pounds. 

If, therefore, we consider his pecuniary irregularities in refer- 
ence to the injury that they inflicted upon others,, the quantum 
of evil for which he is responsible becomes, after all, not so 
great. There are many persons in the enjoyment of fair char- 
acters in the world, who would be happy to have no deeper en- 
croachment upon the property of others to answer for; and 
who may well wonder by what unlucky management Sheridan 
could contrive to found so extensive a reputation for bad pay 
upon so small an amount of debt. 

Let it never, too, be forgotten, in estimating this part of his 
character, that had he been less consistent and disinterested in 
his public conduct, he might have commanded the means of be- 
ing independent and respectable in private. He might have 
died a rich apostate, instead of closing a life of patriotism in 
beggary. He might, (to use a fine expression of his own,) 
have " hid his head in a coronet, ' instead of earning for it but 
the barren wreath of public gratitude. While, therefore, we 
admire the great sacrifice that he made, let us be tolerant to^the 

* Chapter on Reason. 



illGHT HON. EiCHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 336 

errors and ijiiprudences which it entailed upon him ; and, reooL 
lecting how vain it is to look for any thing unalloyed in this 
world, rest -sjatisfied with the Martyr, without requiring, also, 
the Saint. 



SES XSS^ 




LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 




